I'm Giving It All To You
by Heavenli24
Summary: Starts during the VM movie and continues from there, essentially covering those two weeks of bliss before Logan deploys.
1. Chapter 1

**Title** : I'm Giving It All To You  
 **Pairing:** Logan/Veronica  
 **Rating** : Adult/Mature

 **Summary:** Starts during the VM movie and continues from there, essentially covering those two weeks of bliss.

 **Author's Notes:** I had the idea for this story before I had read the published books, so although I'm trying to stay mainly in canon with TTDTL and MKAT some of the details/situations are slightly different.

* * *

 **Chapter One**

 _Veronica's head snaps up at the sound of a crash outside, fingers tightening around the knife in her hand._ What the hell was that? _Half-chopped vegetables forgotten, she leaves the kitchen, taking careful, controlled steps through the living room, goes to glance out of the front window, but can't see anything. Easing the front door open, she slips through to get a better look. There's a car, stranded at an awkward angle in the middle of the road, steam rising from the hood. She doesn't recognise the car, but she certainly knows the man crouched beside the passenger door, phone to his ear._

 _Logan._

 _An engine roars and she sees a white truck heading towards him. She watches wide-eyed as Logan drops the phone and starts tugging at someone in the passenger seat. She glimpses a familiar balding head and gasps, making a run for the road, halting in her tracks when she realises that the truck is barrelling straight towards the car. It hits full-force, sending two bodies flying._

 _"No!" comes a shrill scream, seemingly from far away. It sounds foreign to her ears. "No, no, no no."_

 _She runs unsteadily into the road, coming to a stop before her father's prone body, sinking to her knees as she grasps hold of him, trying wake him, her shaky fingers reaching out to find a pulse. There isn't one._

 _"Dad? Daddy?"  
_

 _Tears stream down her face as she clutches Keith's lifeless body, wrapping her arms around him._

 _"No, please, Dad…please, no."_

 _"I've called an ambulance." She hears someone saying a few feet away. "They're on their way."_

 _"It might be too late." Another voice sounds. "I think this guy's gone too."_

 _Veronica's head snaps up, tears streaming down her face. "What?"_

 _She twists her body, eyes finally landing on the prone form lying in the middle of the road, limbs twisted at awkward angles, blood trickling down his face, lifeless eyes open wide, staring at her. "Oh God, Lo—"_

"Logan!" Veronica gasps, shooting upright in the bed, heart pounding. Her shirt is sticking to her lower back, the material damp with sweat.

 _It was just a nightmare._ She sucks in shaky breaths. _It wasn't real._ They aren't dead, either of them. Logan got her father out before the truck hit.

The smell of car fumes assaults her nostrils and she fights the urge to gag as she looks down at herself. She's still wearing the same clothes, remnants of the crash clinging to them. She needs to get out of them. Now. Tugging off the blanket, she walks over to her bag, hunting through it frantically, pulling out a oversized T-shirt and quickly changing into it. She shoves the dirty clothes into the hamper in the corner of the room.

Heart rate returning to normal, she tries to piece the events of the evening together in her mind. She remembers how scared she was on the ride to the hospital in the ambulance, clasping her father's hand the whole way there. She remembers that Logan followed behind in his car. She remembers Keith being whisked off to surgery; remembers Logan sitting with her in the corridor, clasping her hand in his as they waited for news. She remembers the immense relief she felt when the doctor told her her dad was… well, not out of the woods yet, but definitely still alive. She remembers Logan's arms coming around her and burying her head in his chest, relief and exhaustion spilling over into tears.

She doesn't remember the rest.

Glancing around the dark room, noting that the shoes she was wearing earlier are neatly placed on the floor next to the door, she smiles slightly.

Logan. He must have brought her home, put her to bed. Is he still here?

There's a sliver of light visible under the door, but she can't hear any movement from the other side. Opening it cautiously, she heads out into the living room, spotting him as she rounds the corner, his hand reached out to open the front door. He's leaving. He can't leave. Not when she's all alone, her father unconscious in the hospital.

"Wait," she calls out urgently, her voice coming out breathier than she'd anticipated.

 _Don't leave. Don't leave me. Please._

He stops, hand falling from the doorknob, arm hanging limply at his side, as he slowly turns to face her. Her eyes lock with his, his features partly obscured by the shadows in the dimly-lit room.

"Don't go."

The words are so soft that she's not sure she even said them out loud, but from the way his hand furrows into his pocket—a trademark nervous gesture—she knows he heard her.

"Okay." It's a soft, easy agreement, like he already knew it was coming.

Eyes still locked on his, she hesitates for a moment, unsure of herself. She's not ready to see him leave—she could have lost him tonight—but what happens if he stays? But he's here. He's right here in front of her and it's been nine years and she just wants to _feel_ again. She'll be damned if she lets him walk away now.

Letting out a shaky breath, she starts towards him, and if he's surprised when she grabs his neck, cups his face in her hands and tugs him down to her, desperately pressing her mouth to his, he doesn't show it. He lets her take the lead, sinks into the kiss with ease, as if it hasn't been almost a decade since the last one.

It feels so right; it's like coming home, and she can't get enough. He pulls back, looks down at her searchingly for a moment, then starts walking her backwards, hands sliding down to cup the back of her thighs. She jumps up quickly, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist, clinging to him, fingers digging into his shoulders as he kisses her.

 _God, I've missed this._ The thought comes unbidden but it's not unwelcome. She can't remember the last time a simple kiss made her feel so—

She loses her train of thought when he spins her around, stumbling slightly in his haste and then he's pressing her up against the wall. She's acutely aware of just how close he is; how his body—all hard, lean lines—is invading her usually impenetrable personal space. He's surrounding her completely and it brings back all of the long-buried memories in a rush. This—being together again—is both achingly familiar, yet completely new all at the same time. _I need him. So much._

She feels dizzy, overwhelmed. Logan Echolls is like a drug. Her own personal brand of heroin. _Geez, Veronica, you're quoting Twilight now? What is wrong with you?_ He is though, always has been. No matter how much she tried, how much she knew they shouldn't be together, that they weren't good for each other, she could never stay away from him; she always fell right back off the wagon.

It's so familiar: the way his lips nibble and brush over hers; how his warm breath rushes against her skin, his strong hands sliding down her back and curving over her butt, his fingers digging into her flesh just like they used to; the scent of his cologne, still the same one he wore back in high school. She tightens her legs around his waist, the feel of him pressing against her intimately sending thrills up her spine. _It's been so long._

She breaks the kiss, clinging to him desperately, breath catching when his fingers slip beneath the cotton of her panties, lightly tracing her folds, then gently brushing over her clit. _Oh, God, Logan_. She rolls her hips, the movement dragging a stuttering breath from his throat as their bodies press together, and his eyes meet hers, their lips parted but barely touching. It's the most intense feeling, caught in his gaze like this; it's like time stands still, a long-lost connection reignited. Needing more, she reaches for the collar of his shirt, fisting the material in her hands and then _tugging_ , her stomach clenching with anticipation when several buttons fly off, exposing a large expanse of tanned, muscled chest to her gaze.

She aches to reach out and touch him, to feel that smooth, firm skin beneath her fingers, but he's looking at her so intently that she can't tear her eyes away, can't get her hands to move. Two of his fingers slide inside her, curling up just in that way that drives her crazy, and she freezes, eyes wide and breath catching in her throat. _Fuck, yes. Right there._ He holds her gaze, expression focused, serious, his hips tilting forward, increasing the pressure on her clit. His fingers stroke deeper and she whimpers, her body tingling with pleasure; she can't look away, doesn't want to. It's just the two of them, in this moment, and nothing else exists.

It's urgent and passionate and calm and serene all at the same time. _Not enough._ _Need more. Need him._ She leans forward, capturing his mouth in a soft, languid kiss that belies the passion and urgency thrumming through her. He kisses her back with the same softness, like he's savouring the moment, but then deepens it, urging her mouth open with his tongue, pressing her into the wall insistently as his fingers stroke inside her.

It's incredible. _He's_ incredible.

"Bedroom," she manages in a breathy gasp. She's shaking, on edge, aching for more. "Now."

He nods, carries her down the hallway, still kissing her. He lowers her onto the bed, then pulls back, running warm, strong hands along her thighs, eyes darkening when she bites her lip. Gaze still fixed on her, he tugs off his shirt, then grins when her eyes drop to his chest, an involuntary hand reaching out to run her fingers running across the warm skin, tracing every ridge of his toned stomach.

 _Wow._ He gives a throaty chuckle and she belatedly realises she's said it out loud.

She grins. It's true. Logan Echolls certainly has grown up in the last nine years. Gone is the youthful teenager, strong and slim but lacking confidence in himself, and in his place is a well-formed, muscular man who simply exudes grace and self-assurance.

He pulls off the rest of his clothes then kneels between her legs, leaning forward to kiss her again, his hands slipping beneath her T-shirt. He tugs it over her head and she lifts herself up to help, then moves with her when she settles back against the pillows, hovering over her. She shivers as his eyes travel downwards, hungry gaze taking in every inch of bare skin before him. _God, what are you doing to me, Logan Echolls?_

Under his scrutiny, she's well aware that she's no longer the skinny teenager he fell in love with all those years ago, that her body has matured and filled out, has become more rounded and curved. She hopes he's not disappointed.

He grins predatorily, pressing his mouth to hers gently before dropping a trail of fluttering kisses along her jaw, easing his way down her neck and over her collarbone, only stopping when he reaches her breast. Her hands come up to cradle his neck, fingers burying in his short hair when he drops a soft kiss to the sensitive flesh, then gently flicks her nipple with his tongue. She arches beneath him. _Oh fucking Christ._

She feels him grin against her skin, laving her flesh gently before moving to the other nipple. His hands flatten over her stomach, his mouth moving lower still, and her muscles contract in response. _So good._ It's only when he slides her panties over her hips, tugging them off, and lowers his mouth to her inner thigh, that she tugs on his shoulders, urging him up. _Need him close, need to feel him._ He looks up at her questioningly but she just shakes her head. Her voice, though barely above a whisper, cuts sharply through the silence in the room.

"Come here."

He fixes her with another intense stare, one that sends a shiver down her spine, before nodding slowly, moving up her body again. Her legs fall open to accommodate him and he settles between her thighs. She inhales sharply at the feel of him pressing so intimately against her. _Yes, just there. Perfect._

It's overwhelming, being with him like this after so long, flesh against flesh, not an inch of space between them. He looks down at her with a soft smile— _so familiar_ —and kisses her again. Veronica inhales sharply as he enters her slowly, hesitantly and her eyes almost roll back in her head at the feel of him filling her. _So good. So right._ She's missed this, missed _him,_ so much more than she ever cared to admit.

The room is quiet around them, harsh breathing and soft exclamations of pleasure the only sounds as they rediscover old rhythms and find new ones. Logan's forearms rest alongside her shoulders, supporting his weight as his fingers smooth through her hair, lightly grazing her temples. His gaze is unwavering, and the raw emotion she can see in his eyes leaves her transfixed, unable and unwilling to look away even as he strokes steadily inside her, increasing the pace and adjusting his position in response to each of her gasps and whimpers. _I can't. Oh God. Fuck, I need—_

It's the most intimate, most intense coupling she's ever experienced and it simultaneously frightens and thrills her; it's so many things at once: it's making up for lost time after nine long years apart; relief that he's here with her; desperation that this might be their only time together; wanting to savour the moment, to hold him tight and never let go.

She slides her hands up over his chest, cups his jaw, watching his reactions. He shifts his hips slightly, the movement hitting a particularly sensitive spot inside her. She gasps. _Yes. Right there._ Then his hand is skimming up her left arm, urging it up and over her head. He holds it there, his forearm resting on the mattress, skin brushing against hers as he links their fingers. He does the same with the other hand. She's at his mercy now, arms pinned above her head, fingers entwined, legs wrapped around his waist as he moves within her.

She tries to keep her eyes locked on his, but when he releases one hand and slips it between her legs, teasing the sensitive flesh there, her eyes slide closed involuntarily and her chin tilts back, neck arching, head falling against the pillows. _Oh God. Fuck, yes. Need you, Logan… Love you_. She feels his mouth on her neck, needy, open-mouthed kisses trailing up over the exposed skin, along the underside of her jaw, and she shivers. He's moving faster now, strokes uneven and hurried, and she's still riding out the waves of pleasure when his head drops to her shoulder, his body stiffens and a low moan escapes his lips.

 _Holy fuck. That was incredible._

Her breathing is laboured, body spent and exhausted. He nuzzles her neck, pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive spot just below her ear, then moves to her mouth again, capturing it hungrily. She can feel all the emotions she'd been trying to keep buried bubbling up to the surface. Her breath hitches. She doesn't realise she's crying until she feels his thumbs on her cheeks, wiping away her tears.

"Are you okay?" He breaks the silence with a gentle whisper.

She opens her eyes, finds him looking down at her with concern, his face adorably flushed.

She smiles, squeezing her fingers around his, then lifts her right hand, still clasped with his, moving it to her mouth and kissing his knuckles softly. "Yeah. Just… yeah."

He smiles and kisses her nose, then her lips once more. "Come on, you need to sleep."

He pulls out, climbs off the bed, and Veronica shifts, reaching for the covers, then turning on her side and settling beneath them. The bed dips behind her, and then Logan is right there, his chest pressing up against her back, legs tangling with hers and his arm sliding around her waist, tugging her close.

* * *

Logan eyes the seedy-looking bathhouse across the street, watching for any sign of Luke Haldeman. It's been over an hour and he's getting antsy. With nothing to do but sit, he has way too much time to think, endless questions running through his mind. What's Veronica doing right now? Is she safe? What exactly happened between them last night? Will it change anything? Did it mean as much to her as it did to him? What will it mean for them now?

At the time, it seemed natural—inevitable—like the last nine years were inconsequential and they were finally back where they belonged: together. He'd fallen asleep relaxed and sated and with more than just a little hope that they could actually make things work this time. But then the sun rose and Veronica woke him, already up and dressed and all-business, and he wondered if maybe she was regretting it now, if it had just been an escape for her, an attempt to forget. Which he can understand; it's a tactic he's used often in the past, when things have gotten too much and he just wants to forget for a while, just lose himself in someone. But with her, with Veronica, the idea that what they shared meant nothing to her makes him feel sick. He'd rather not be with her at all than to simply be an itch she needs to scratch. Even if the sex _is_ amazing.

Breakfast this morning was strange, to say the least. He emerged from the shower, dressed in last night's jeans and his shirt tugged on but unbuttoned, to find her perched at the kitchen counter, typing on her laptop. She barely looked up from the screen as she nodded towards the carton of OJ and the plate of freshly-toasted bagels. He ate in silence, watching her work. She finally looked up when he carried his plate and glass to the sink, rinsing them under the hot water, and for a moment, he thought this was it: the big talk.

"Logan…?"

"Hmm?" He turned to face her, resting his hands against the side of the sink.

"I—" She glanced down at his chest. "Shit, sorry about your shirt. Here, I uh, found these earlier."

He raised an eyebrow when she reached across the counter and retrieved a small collection of clear buttons. She handed them to him and he had to suppress a smile. She actually went searching for his buttons?

"Uh, thanks," he said, taking them awkwardly. "I, uh, don't suppose you have a needle and thread?"

She started in surprise, mouth opening for a moment, before she snapped it closed, and hopped off the bar stool. "Uh, yeah, I think so. Be right back."

He watched her leave, feeling a mixture of amusement and anxiety. It was weird, and awkward, but kind of familiar—kind of normal—at the same time. She reappeared in the kitchen a couple of minutes later and handed him a small sewing kit. Nodding his thanks, he headed out to the living room, tugging off the shirt and sinking down onto the couch to sew the buttons back on. He worked quickly and efficiently; navy training at its finest. As he was finishing the last button, tying off the thread and biting through it, he looked up to find her leaning against the kitchen doorway, arms folded, one leg crossed over the other, watching him. He shot her a quick smile, then pulled the shirt on, buttoning it.

"You, uh, ready to head out?"

"Sure." He nodded, noting the large, full bag at her feet. "What's the plan?"

She pushed off the doorway, reaching down for the bag and hoisting it over her shoulder as she moved further inside the room.

"I figure I'll head to Gia's, find a prime surveillance spot, see what I can find out. Can you tail Luke, see what he's up to today?"

"Uh, sure," he agreed albeit somewhat reluctantly. He didn't like the idea of her on a stake-out alone, but then again he also knew it wasn't worth trying to argue with her when she was focused on a case. "Okay."

"Great. Can you give me a ride to the office first? I need to pick up some stuff on the way to Gia's."

And that was that. They headed to Mars Investigations, he dropped Veronica off near Gia's apartment, and then drove over to Luke's. which was how he'd ended up here, all the way out in West Hollywood, sitting outside this sleazy bathhouse like some kind of creeper.

He glances down at his phone: no word from her yet. It's been almost three hours now. He hopes she isn't planning to do anything dangerous. She's been out of the game for a long time, but he still remembers how she was in those last few weeks back at Hearst. She was angry and ruthless and rash, especially when it came to people messing with her friends and loved ones. And speaking of… hadn't Piz had been at the reunion? Piz, who had no possible reason for being at a Neptune High reunion, except perhaps if he was…

 _Shit_. He lets his head fall back against the headrest. _She's still dating Piz… and I slept with her._ _Fuck._

His phone rings and he lifts his head, sees her name on the caller ID and answers with a bright, too-casual, "Hey."

* * *

It's well past dark by the time Logan makes it back to Neptune and he hasn't heard from her in several hours. He's trying not to imagine the worst, but it's Veronica; it's hard not to worry.

S _he'll be fine. She's an adult, she can handle herself._

He flips on the radio, hoping for a distraction.

 _"… Police have been called to a warehouse apartment building on Second Street in downtown Neptune, where reports of a shooting have been made. Details are still coming in, but it is believed that a woman in her late-twenties has been shot in one of the apartments."_

 _Shit_. Logan steps on the gas, speeding over Coronado Bridge at several miles an hour over the speed limit. Second Street is where Gia lives; it's where Veronica is. _Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay_. He can't lose her again.

Of course, it's stupid to think he's not going to lose her anyway, he realises belatedly. She'll be heading back to New York soon; she has a life and a career and a boyfriend there. There's no place for him, for Neptune, in her life anymore.

When he reaches Second Street, he finds it filled with police cars, an ambulance, TV cameras and a ton of curious bystanders. Logan screeches the car to a halt at the end of the road and scrambles out, slamming the door behind him. _She has to be alive. She has to._ He jogs over to the commotion, eyes scanning the crowd, fear gnawing away at him as he makes his way around the side of the throng of people, towards the ambulance. He spots a familiar-looking blonde head of hair standing at the back of the ambulance and pushes his way through the bystanders. _Oh, thank God._

"Veronica?"

He's getting closer, only a couple of people in front of him.

"Veronica!" he calls again, louder this time. She turns around and relief floods through him. _It's her, she's okay._

"Logan!"

He strides quickly over to her, taking in her dishevelled appearance, the exhaustion on her face, and pulls her into a hug.

"You're okay," he mumbles against her hair. "I heard, on the news, someone got shot… I thought maybe…"

She shakes her head against his chest, then pulls back to look up at him sadly. "It was Gia. Cobb shot her, from the apartment across the street. He came for me too, but I—I got away. Knocked him unconscious." Her eyes search his. "Logan; he did it. He killed Carrie. They've arrested him."

He nods. He suspected as much. His hand drifts to her cheek, cupping her jaw and tilting her head up toward him; he's grateful that he can touch her, that she's real in front of him.

"Are you okay?" he asks seriously, trying to keep the worry out of his tone.

She closes her eyes briefly, before nodding. "Yeah. I mean, I will be. I just wanna get out of here."

"Okay, I'll take you home." He nods. "Do you still need to be here?"

"No." She shakes her head. "I've given my statement. The paramedics have checked me over, given me the okay." She gives him a small, warm smile, one that he hasn't seen from her in a long time. "I was about to call you, actually."

The sincerity in her tone triggers a small spark of hope inside him, and he smiles softly, slipping an arm around her shoulder, holding her close to his side.

"Come on. Let's go."

The ride home is quiet, sombre; Veronica leans back in her seat, head tilted away from him, staring out of the window. Logan looks over at her in concern, sees her blank expression reflected in the window, notices the way she's slumped in the seat. She looks drained, exhausted… sad. Not really knowing what to say, he stays quiet until he's pulling the car up outside Keith's house.

"Home, sweet home."

"What?" She lifts her head, blinking dazedly. "Oh. Okay."

She reaches for the door handle and he follows suit, climbing out of the car and moving round to her side as she opens the door. Feeling gentlemanly, he holds out his hand to her. She takes it, smiling her thanks, before turning back and reaching back for her bag.

"S'okay, I got it." He releases her hand and moves around her to grab the large bag.

He follows as she makes her way up the front steps and onto the porch. Her fingers shake as she fumbles with the keys, and he frowns in concern. He hopes she's not going into shock. Veronica finally gets the door open and steps inside, coming to a stop in the middle of the living room and hugging her arms around herself. Logan lets her bag slide off his shoulder and down to the floor as he closes the door behind them. Regarding her for a moment, he walks toward her, intent on offering comfort, but she shifts, almost flinches away, when he reaches out a hand, so he thinks better of it and comes to a stop a couple of feet away.

"So…"

"So…"

There's an awkward beat. He's not sure what to say or do.

"You gonna be okay?"

She looks around helplessly, glances towards the bedrooms, then clenches her fingers around her upper arms.

"I, uh…" She stumbles over her words, before exhaling and looking at him resolutely. "Logan, I can't sleep here tonight. Not knowing my dad is…"

She looks vulnerable, her voice catching slightly as she speaks, and his heart goes out to her. He steps forward, closing the gap between them, and reaches for her wrists, gently lifting so her fingers loosen on her arms and he can take hold of them.

"Hey, it's okay. You don't have to." He looks down at her seriously, debating whether what he's about to suggest is the wisest thing. Ultimately though, it doesn't matter.

"Look, come back to the beach house." He strokes his thumbs over the back of her hands. "Dick's out of town for a few days, so there's a spare bed."

She frowns, starting to shake her head, but then she looks down the hallway again, and sighs.

"I'd like that. Thanks." He nods, glad she's not insisting on being alone, but then she narrows her eyes, extracting her hand from his and holds up a warning finger. "But I am not sleeping in Dick's bed."

Logan smiles, relieved to see even a small glimpse of her usual self. "Don't worry, I won't subject you to that. I'm sure we can work something out."

"Okay." She steps back, her other hand sliding out of his grasp. "Let me just go pack a bag."

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Logan lets them into Dick's condo on the beach, flipping on the light in the hallway.

"Okay, you've probably seen most of the place already, but quick tour: kitchen's that way," He points to the left. "Dick's room, bathroom." He indicates as they head toward the living room. "If you're adamant about not sleeping in Dick's room,"—she shudders in response and he chuckles lightly—"then I'll sleep in there and you can have my bed."

They come to a stop in the living room, Veronica shaking her head as she turns to face him. "No, Logan, I'm not gonna turf you out of your own bed. Don't be stupid."

He gives her a look. "Seriously. It's fine. It can't be that bad, right?" He raises his eyebrows playfully. He can see her open her mouth, ready to protest, so he quickly cuts in with, "You want something to eat, or drink?"

She closes her mouth with an audible pop, then shakes her head. "I'm fine, thanks. Just… need to sleep."

He nods. Fair enough. "Okay, well, feel free to use the bathroom. I'll just make sure everything's sorted in here."

Her lips twitch and she tosses out an airy, "Gotta hide the porn, huh?" as she turns in the direction of the bathroom.

"Of course," he shoots back with a grin, enjoying the light-hearted banter. "And maybe change the sheets while I'm at it."

"Oh, eww." She turns back to him, disgusted grimace on her face. "I did not need to know that."

He just chuckles and watches her disappear into the bathroom, before moving over to the small alcove just off the living space which houses his bed. Truth is, he already knows it's clean and tidy, the bed already made with fresh sheets and hospital corners yesterday—five years in the military have instilled a level of order and discipline in him that's hard to shake, even in the privacy of his own home… or Dick's beach house, if you want to be picky—but he does want to give it a once-over anyway.

When he's done, he moves to the window, slipping his hands in his pockets as he looks out over the ocean, the realisation of what today's events will mean finally sinking in: they've solved the mystery, they've caught the real killer… which means he's off the hook. He's a free man.

"Hey," she says softly from behind him, pulling him from his thoughts.

He turns around, giving her a small smile. She's wearing a baggy Stanford T-shirt and cotton pyjama shorts, her hair loose around her face in limp waves, all her make-up scrubbed off. She looks young, vulnerable even, and exhausted, and suddenly he's back there again, back to that morning ten years ago, after graduation, after that fateful night at the Neptune Grand, when she thought her father was dead. He shakes himself out of the memory quickly.

"Hey," he says warmly, walking over to her. "I'll, uh, leave you to it then."

He starts to move past, but her hand comes out, wrapping around his wrist, stopping him. Her fingers are cold on his warm skin. "No. Don't."

"Veronica?"

"Just…" She bites her lip. "I don't want to be alone. Not yet. Can you…?"

She gestures toward the bed. His eyes follow the movement and he hesitates for a moment. Then he looks back at her, at the pleading expression in her eyes, sees the fear and pain she's struggling to mask, and finds himself nodding.

"Okay."

The relief on her face is evident. "Thanks."

He nods again. "Just let me lock up and I'll be back."

"Okay."

He heads across the room and down the hallway, locking the front door and then ducking into the bathroom. Closing the door behind him, he leans back against the wall with a sigh. He has no idea what's happening between them, no idea how he's supposed to handle this. What he does know is that Veronica needs someone right now. _Hell, I do too._

He washes his face, brushes his teeth, then heads back out. He finds Veronica curled on her side in the bed, her back to him. With a small smile, he pulls the thin curtain across the alcove entrance and lowers the window blinds, then rounds the end of the bed, changes into a t-shirt and boxers, and slips under the covers, mirroring her position.

She opens her eyes and regards him sadly, before shifting closer and slipping her arm around his waist, burying her face in his chest. Bewildered for a moment, he doesn't move, but then he feels her take a shuddering breath and suddenly she's sobbing against him. _Oh, Veronica_. Chest clenching with sympathy, he wraps his arms around her, tugging her close, one hand cupping the back of her head, just letting her get it all out as he strokes the other up and down her back, whispering soft, soothing words.

"Hey, it's okay, you're okay," he repeats comfortingly.

It takes several long minutes before her sobs subside and her breathing becomes more even.

"Sorry," she mumbles into his chest.

He tightens his arm around her, flattening his palm across her back and rubbing gently. "You don't need to apologise. You've had a rough couple of days."

She inhales heavily, then lifts her head to look at him. Her eyes are red-rimmed, tears wet on her cheeks. "Thanks."

He smiles gently, shaking his head and moving his arm so he can tuck her hair behind her ear with his fingertips. "Feel better?"

"Not really, but…" she shrugs. "Just needed to get it out. I'm okay now."

He shifts onto his back and she moves with him, curling against his side and resting her head on his chest. He lets his fingers drift along her arm absently.

"So," he starts hesitantly. "The case is closed, your dad's going to be okay, you have a new job to start and a boyfriend who's waiting for you… I guess this means you'll be heading back to New York."

She sighs. "Actually, no."

"What?" He looks down at the top of her head in surprise.

"Well, the new job fell through yesterday." She shrugs. "Apparently they get testy if you don't return a couple of calls."

"Veronica, I'm sorry." An awful thought occurs to him. "Please tell me it wasn't because of me, because of you coming here."

She sighs. "Look, it was my decision, okay? I chose to ignore the calls. It's my fault."

"Still…"

"And, uh… FYI? There's no boyfriend. Not anymore."

"There isn't?" He's caught off guard. "But I thought… Piz… I mean, at the reunion, it seemed…"

She shakes her head. "We broke up. Look at that, losing a job and a boyfriend all in one day." She sighs. "Piz wasn't exactly happy about me staying here longer, especially since I was supposed to be meeting his parents for the first time yesterday."

 _Well, shit._ Logan looks up at the ceiling.

Veronica lifts her head. "Hey, I know what you're thinking, and don't blame yourself, okay? Piz and I… we just weren't meant to be." She gives him a small smile. "Logan, it was my decision to stay, my need to solve the case, that caused all this. It wasn't you."

"But, Veronica…"

"Look, maybe I've realised some things over the last few days," she says softly, her hand coming up to his chest, fingers flattening over his heart, their warmth seeping through his t-shirt. "Maybe I realised that I've been trying to be something I'm not; maybe I realised I don't belong in New York after all, that being a lawyer isn't for me. Maybe I want to solve crimes and be a PI and bring justice to good ole' SoCal again."

Logan's head is spinning with all this new information. _Does this mean what I think it means?_

"So… you're saying…?"

"That I'm staying here, in Neptune, yes," she confirms. "I mean, I'll have to go back to New York at some point, you know, to pack up my stuff, move out of the apartment, but, yeah."

He can't help it, a wide smile spreads across his face. She's here, and she's staying… and she doesn't have a boyfriend.

"Oh, thank God," he breathes. "Last night… I thought maybe… well, I thought you and Piz—"

"Wait a minute." She pushes up quickly, supporting herself on one elbow and looking down at him, affronted. "You thought I slept with you when I was still with him? Logan, I would never—"

"I know. I know you wouldn't intentionally," he tells her earnestly. "It didn't even occur to me at the time, but afterwards, I remembered he was here, and… well—"

She cuts him off with a finger to his lips.

"Logan," she says seriously. "You have to know that I would never cheat on anyone. Ever. No matter what I was feeling for y—no matter what I was feeling."

He lets out a breath he didn't realise he was holding, his lips tingling from her touch.

"I know." He looks up at her seriously, then pauses for a moment, lips curling up in a lopsided smile as what she almost said sinks in. "Wait, you were feeling things… for me?"

"What do _you_ think?" She's trying to hide a smile. He looks down.

"It's been nine years, Veronica," he says quietly, seriously. "Your dad was in the hospital, you were tired and upset, I thought maybe it was…"

"What, a quick lay to make me feel better, a momentary lapse in judgement? Please." She leans over, her face hovering over his, their lips barely an inch apart. "Last night was… incredible." She lowers her mouth to his in a soft kiss. "Breathtaking." Another kiss. "Phenomenal." Kiss. "Everything I've been missing for nine long years."

He raises an eyebrow, a familiar warmth spreading through his stomach. "Really?"

"Yeah, really." She kisses him again, one last time, before looking down at him seriously. "I missed you."

He smiles, lifting his hand to her cheek, then tucking her hair behind her ear, cupping her neck as he pulls her mouth down for yet another kiss. "I missed you, too."


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for the reviews and comments for chapter 1 :). Hope you're enjoying the story :).

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

Veronica wakes the next morning to sunlight streaming through the large windows and an otherwise empty bed. Running a hand across her face, she stretches, turning to look at the clock propped on the table beside the bed. 8:33 am. She blinks in surprise, she rarely sleeps this late, in fact, since she got back to California, she's been up and raring to go well before six. _Goddamn jetlag_. Pulling back the covers, she slips out of the bed, padding out into the living area.

"Logan?"

The beach house is silent and she frowns, lifting a hand to her head. She feels drained, her head heavy and stuffy, her eyes stinging and dry.

"Ugh, I need coffee."

She walks down the hallway to the kitchen, noting as she passes the front door that Logan's car is still parked in the drive. _So, his car's here… but where is he?_

"Logan? You here?"

There's still silence and she frowns in confusion, heading into the kitchen, before spotting a folded note on the counter, a car key placed beside it. Curiosity piqued, she reaches for the piece of paper and unfolds it.

 _'Veronica,_

 _Sorry—didn't want to wake you._

 _Got called onto base for an early-morning briefing. Help yourself to breakfast, there's coffee in the machine._

 _I called the hospital. They said your dad's doing well and you can go see him today. Visiting hours start at 9. Take my car, I've got Dick's today—key's on the counter._

 _I'll be back by 2._

 _L'_

Veronica smiles, placing the note back down on the counter, a rush of gratitude flooding through her. _He called the hospital for me?_ She needs to go, see her father, make sure he's doing okay. First, though, she needs coffee and a shower. She switches on the machine and leaves it to brew while she grabs her bag and heads for the bathroom. Standing under the hot spray of Dick's luxury shower, Veronica's thoughts turn to the rest of Logan's note.

 _Early-morning briefing,_ it said. Huh.

With everything going on, she almost forgot he's military now. A pilot. In the navy. It's a strange thought, Logan in the navy, flying planes. Sure, she heard through the grapevine that he'd joined up, but at the time, it was an abstract kind of knowledge—something she knew in her head, but couldn't really imagine the reality of; though she certainly got something of an inkling when he showed up at the airport in uniform last week.

Veronica steps out of the shower and dries off, pulling on her clothes. Leaving her hair to dry naturally, she stands in front of the large bathroom mirror, frowning when she notices the dark circles under her eyes _. I look like crap_. Not surprising really, but she doesn't really want her father to see her looking like this. With a sigh, she reaches for her make-up bag and tries to salvage the damage as best she can.

Rummaging around the kitchen a few minutes later, she finds a travel mug and pours the steaming coffee into it to take with her, then opens the fridge, on the hunt for possible breakfast options. Considering the current occupants of the house, she's not expecting much, but to her surprise she finds a good selection of food, including a whole container of fresh fruit. She makes a quick fruit salad and secures it in a Tupperware container she finds in the back of one of the cupboards.

Grabbing the coffee mug and Tupperware, she swipes the car key from the counter and heads out outside, letting out an appreciative whistle as she slides behind the wheel of Logan's sleek, shiny BMV. _This is a_ nice _car_. Sure, she's been in it a few times already, but she hadn't exactly been paying attention to the car itself at the time. Starting the engine, she gingerly backs it out of Dick's driveway, driving cautiously along the road, getting used to it. She _really_ doesn't want to crash Logan's expensive, state-of-the-art vehicle. _I'd never hear the end of it._

Pulling onto the freeway, she tries to puzzle out the numerous buttons and switches on the console and after pressing several random buttons, the radio flicks on, just in time to catch the breaking news of the day: Stu Cobbler has been arrested for the murders of Carrie Bishop and Gia Goodman, and all charges against Logan have been dropped. He's officially a free man. _Thank God_.

She pulls into the hospital parking lot and makes her way inside. Her dad is sleeping when she reaches his room, but she rushes to his side anyway, hand hovering over his bandaged head as she leans over to kiss his temple.

"Hey, Dad."

She lets her eyes roam his prone form, mentally checking him over. He doesn't look too bad; a few cuts and scrapes marring his face, bandages around his head and secured over his neck, but she vaguely recalls the doctor mentioning a fractured skull and pelvis. That has to be pretty serious, right?

She reaches for his hand, running her thumb over the back of it, more for her own reassurance than anything else. _He's going to be fine, Veronica. He's strong. He's Keith Mars; he's invincible._

"You must be his daughter." A kind-looking nurse enters the room, stepping over to the other side of the bed and adjusting the IV in her dad's hand.

"Veronica." She nods, taking a step back from the bed and hooking her thumbs in her back pockets. "He's going to be okay, right?"

She nurse looks up at her, sympathy in her eyes. "His injuries are pretty serious and it'll take some time to heal, but he's a fighter."

"Will he wake up soon?"

The nurse gives her a small smile. "He's sleeping off the anaesthetic right now; it could be another few hours."

Veronica forces a small smile. "That's okay, I'll wait."

The nurse leaves the room and Veronica takes a seat in the chair against the wall. It's not exactly comfortable, but she's drained, exhausted, and as she curls up in it, she decides she doesn't really care.

* * *

She arrives back at the beach house shortly before two. Her dad briefly woke about two hours after she arrived, just as the nurse had predicted, but he was groggy and confused and not particularly coherent. She sat with him, holding his hand and making mostly one-sided small talk with him until he drifted back off to sleep again, then stayed another 30 minutes, content just to watch him sleep, knowing he was alive and safe, before heading back out to the car. She popped back to her dad's house on the way, to check the mail and pack some more clean clothes, before returning to the beach house.

Closing the door behind her, she drops Logan's car key back onto the kitchen counter where he left it this morning, and makes her way through the house, flopping down on his bed. She looks up at the ceiling, her hands folded across her stomach, her eyes focused on the whirring fan above her head. She's not sure how long she lies there, in the silence, but the sound of a key turning in the front door startles her from her thoughts and her lips twitch up into a small smile. _He's home._

"Veronica?"

"In here," she replies. She hears the door close behind him, then the sound of movement in the kitchen.

"Did you see your dad?" he calls from down the hall. His footsteps sound on the hardwood floor, getting louder as he moves through the house. "How is he?"

"I did," she replies, loud enough for him to hear from her position on the soft mattress. "He's doing okay, considering."

"That's good." He rounds the corner, finally coming into view. Veronica turns her head… and her jaw drops involuntarily.

"Wow." She sits up quickly, eyes fixed on him.

"So uh, sorry about leaving this morning." He reaches up, looking sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. "I had—uh…Veronica? Veronica, you okay?"

"Um…" She swallows audibly, tiredness forgotten, eyes raking over his form. _Those pressed, white navy uniforms should be illegal._ He looks _amazing_. "What?"

Sure, she saw him in uniform last week at the airport, but she'd just spent six hours on a plane and was tired and jetlagged. Not to mention that it was the first time she'd laid eyes on him in close to a decade and it was all awkward and weird… so while she certainly noticed the uniform then, she didn't have a chance to fully _appreciate_ it… until now.

"Veronica?" He's standing in front of her now, barely a foot away, his hands reaching out, coming to rest on her upper arms. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." _Nothing at all._ She shakes her head, then stands up, smiling suddenly. "Come here."

Impulsively, she grabs his shirt and pulls him towards her, capturing his mouth in a kiss. He seems surprised for a moment, but then grins against her mouth. When they part, he looks down at her affectionately, lifting his fingers to her forehead, swiping her hair behind her ear with his fingertips, then brushing them along her cheek. The gesture takes her right back to high school; he used to do that all the time back then.

"What was that for?" he asks.

"You know how I said last week that you should only wear this?" She presses another kiss to his lips. "I _seriously_ meant it."

His eyebrow quirks and he smirks, the expression a stark reminder of Logan as a teenager. "Really?"

She lets her hands slide down, palms flattening against his chest, her fingers tracing over the defined muscle through the thin material of his crisp, white shirt.

"You know, on second thoughts," she muses, "maybe you _not_ wearing this would be even better."

"Why, Ms. Mars, are you objectifying me?" His expression turns mischievous, a familiar grin spreading across his face.

"You bet your ass I am, Lieutenant." She states firmly, tugging on the lapels of his shirt. _God, the things he makes me feel._ Mustering the most authoritative tone she can, she orders, "Now take it off."

The smirk widens into a grin and he raises his fingers to his temple in a formal salute. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

Four o'clock that afternoon finds Logan lounging in bed with Veronica and a tub of Chunky Monkey. Somewhere in the middle of their mid-afternoon tryst, she ended up draped in his discarded, regulation shirt, his navy cap balancing precariously on her head. Now she's sitting cross-legged on his bed, the shirt unbuttoned but mostly covering her modesty as she digs spoonfuls of ice cream out of the tub, occasionally feeding them to him. She looks like… well he doesn't really know how to describe the gorgeous, delectable sight before him. _It's fucking hot, is what it is._

Veronica Mars. In his bed. Wearing his navy uniform. _It's like every fantasy I've ever had, coming true all at once._

He shakes his head, it's so weird; the navy is his life now, Veronica was his life then. He never imagined the two would ever collide, let alone become intimately entwined like this.

He smiles, leaning back against the wall, chest bare, the bed sheet bunched around his waist. The smile widens when she pouts endearingly, realising that the spoonful of Chunky Monkey in her hand contains no actual chunks. She frowns for a second, before shrugging and holding out the spoon out to him instead.

"Here, you have this one." He gives her a knowing look, trying not to laugh at the faux innocent expression on her face, but accepts the offering anyway.

"So…uh, how did all _this_ happen?" Veronica waves the spoon in the direction of his upper body, before affecting a surfer drawl. "'Cos, dude, you are like, totally _ripped_."

Logan chuckles.

"It's called military service, sweetheart," he drawls, patting his abdomen with faux arrogance. "Gotta be in good shape." He shrugs then, turning more serious. "What can I say, they work us hard. Annual medicals, bi-annual fitness tests, not to mention the daily manual labour."

Veronica frowns, scrunching her nose up, seemingly puzzling something out in her mind. Logan fights back a smile. _She's adorable._

"But you're a pilot, right? I can't imagine flying a plane calls for much manual labour." Something mischievous crosses her face and she smirks. "Except maybe it's all in that 'thrust lever wrist action'?"

At that, he snorts. " _Thrust lever wrist action_? Geez, Veronica." _Hang on…_ He frowns. "What do you know about thrust levers anyway?"

"Not much." She shrugs, looking down at the ice cream, digging out another spoonful. "Just might've read a couple of things about planes a few months back."

"Yeah?" He watches her for a moment, but her eyes are still focused on the tub. _She's been reading about planes… about what I do?_

"It was nothing." She shrugs, slipping another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

He studies her for a moment longer; she's still avoiding his gaze, looking slightly uncomfortable, so he decides not to push it, focusing on her original question instead.

"You're right, there's not much manual labour involved in flying a plane, but that's not all we do. There are lots of regular tasks and training exercises that have nothing to do with flying. And, you know, there's a gym on the carrier and not a whole lot else to do when we're out at sea." He pauses, not sure if he should mention the next part. "Plus, we have to be in good shape in case we have to—in case we end up on the ground."

"Yeah." She makes a face, dropping the spoon into the tub and placing it on the small table beside the bed, and he knows she caught what he didn't say.

 _In case we have to eject._

 _In case we're shot down and by some miracle we make it out alive._

 _In case we're stranded and alone in enemy territory, and have to survive._

An awkward silence falls between them. Veronica shifts on the bed, tugging his shirt around her more tightly and moving to sit beside him, her back propped up against the pillows. She's still wearing his cap and the sight of it, too big for her head and slipping down over her eyes, makes him smile. He reaches over and tweaks the brim with his finger.

"Aren't you cute in my uniform."

"It's a flaw, I know." Her thoughtful expression clears and she grins, her tone light, blue eyes bright and sparkling. "I just can't help myself."

He chuckles softly, relieved for the break in the tension. "That right?"

She nods smugly, rising up on her knees and moving to straddle his lap. His hands immediately go to her hips, thumbs resting on her upper thighs, running over her skin lightly as he eyes the tantalising glimpses of bare skin peaking out from beneath the shirt.

"So, uh, you had a briefing this morning?" she asks, letting her fingers drift along his chest, down over his abdomen. His stomach muscles twitch in response.

"Yeah." He nods, lowering his eyes, studying his insignia on his shirt. "A meeting with my OC and the XO. Now that the charges have been dropped, I've been cleared to return to active duty."

"Active duty?" He can sense her watching him, but he's reluctant to look up, doesn't want to break the news. _She's going to hate me for this._ "Meaning what exactly?"

He lets out a breath. "I deploy in two weeks."

She doesn't say anything for a few seconds, and unable to take the awkward silence, he glances up at her. Her brow is furrowed and the expression on her face is a combination of thoughtful and worried.

"Deploy where?"

"I can't really say. It's classified."

"Right. Yeah, of course it is." She shake her head, rolling her eyes at herself. "Top secret military stuff. Right. But… it's far, isn't it?"

"Yeah." He nods. _Too far._ "I'm sure you can imagine the kind of places we get sent to."

"How long for?"

He closes his eyes for a moment, trying not to wince as he admits, "Six months."

"Six months?" Her eyes widen. She lets out a humourless chuckle. "God, we have the worst timing."

"Hey." He flattens his hands along her upper thighs, letting his fingers trace small patterns over her skin, taking comfort in being able to touch her like this again. "We still have two weeks."

She lets out a sigh. "Two weeks is no time at all, Logan."

"It's better than nothing though, right?" He lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. _She's right, two weeks isn't enough time._ "We'll just have to make the most of it."

* * *

The bed beside her is empty, again, when Veronica rouses on Friday morning… it's the second time in as many days she's woken alone. The covers on Logan's side of the bed are pulled up and smoothed neatly and she frowns, hoping this isn't going to become a regular occurrence; she misses waking up with him. With a stretch and a yawn, she rolls over, sitting up and grabbing Logan's t-shirt from the floor, pulling it over her head.

Running her fingers through her hair, wincing when they catch on a knot, she pulls back the curtain separating his bed from the living room and, bleary-eyed, shuffles towards the kitchen in search of coffee. She stops short when she sees Logan standing at the kitchen counter, his back to her, flipping through the morning paper. She swallows, he's dressed in running gear, beads of sweat clinging to the hair at the back of his neck and dripping down beneath the sleeveless tank top he's wearing. _Damn, he looks good._

Lips curling up into a smile, she approaches him, slipping her arms around his waist.

"So, I woke up all alone in that big bed. What's that about?"

She presses a kiss to his bicep, then rests her chin on his upper arm, looking up at him.

"Morning." He turns his head to smile at her. "Sorry. Went for a run."

"At six a.m.?" She's sceptical. "When you could have been snuggling with me?"

He turns, slips his arms around her waist and drops a kiss on her nose. "I run every morning. Whenever I can."

"Really?" Her nose scrunches in bemusement. _Why would anyone run every day by choice?_ "Since when?"

He chuckles softly. "About five years now."

She steps back in surprise. "Seriously?"

He seems confused. "Is it that hard to believe?"

"No, it's just… " The words come tumbling out before she can stop them. "The Logan Echolls I remember thought playing volleyball and golf on the Playstation was enough to satisfy his daily exercise quotient."

He frowns, looking a little affronted. "Yeah, well, I'm not the same person I was back then."

"No, you're not." She agrees, before letting out an apologetic sigh. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… just ignore me, I haven't had my caffeine fix yet."

He looks down at her, his expression softening. "And I'm sorry I wasn't there when you woke up."

"You're here now." She leans up to kiss him, hoping he won't mind her morning breath.

When they part, Logan winces. "Yeah, about that… I have to go into work today. It's why I went running so early."

"Really?" Disappointment floods through her. "You _have_ to?"

"Believe me, if I didn't, we would be doing something _much_ more interesting right now." He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and she grins. "But alas, since I've been out of commission the last few weeks, I have to show my face, and also get in a couple of sorties for currency before I go on leave next week."

The military jargon goes right over her head and she raises an eyebrow. "A couple of who for what now?"

He laughs softly. "We have to log a certain number of flying hours to keep current, so we'll be cleared to fly operationally."

"Right. Okay." In truth, she's still a little lost, but she doesn't want him to know that.

He smiles, trapping his tongue between his teeth. "You still have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

"Of course I do," she retorts, tightening her arms around his waist. He just raises his eyebrow sceptically and she knows he's not buying it. "Okay, fine. No clue. But that just means you're going to have to teach me."

He lets out a long-suffering sigh, a playful twinkle in his eye. "Guess, I'm gonna have to." He glances at the clock on the kitchen wall. "But right now, I have to take a shower."

"Okay." She nods and steps away from him, moving around the counter and over to the coffee machine as he heads toward the bathroom. When she doesn't hear the door close, she turns back to find him standing in the doorway looking at her expectantly.

"You coming?"

She bites back a grin. "Well… not right now."

He gives a low, throaty chuckle, one that creates warm tingles in the pit of her stomach and jerks his head in the direction of the shower. "Get in here."

* * *

Veronica rests her head against the wet tiles of the shower wall, breathing hard. Logan's forehead is pressed to hers, his fingers digging into the back of her thighs, hips gently rocking against her as they come down together.

"Wow." She tilts her chin up, stealing a kiss. "Best shower sex ever."

"No argument from me," he murmurs.

"Is it me, or does it just keep getting better?" She doesn't really mean to say it out loud, but it's out there now, hanging in the air.

"Shower sex, or sex in general?"

"Sex with you," she clarifies, realising she can't take it back now. "I mean, back then, it was good. Really good. But now? Like, the best _ever_."

"Aw, you make me blush." He moves one hand from her thigh and she tightens her legs around him to stay upright as he cups her jaw, thumb stroking across her cheek as he looks at her, consideringly, his gaze lifting to her forehead, then back to her eyes again. "You know, I like you like this."

"Like what?"

"You talk about your feelings more now," he says, watching her seriously. "You didn't used to do that."

She feels something tighten in her chest and fights the urge to look away, to run. It hasn't been easy, becoming comfortable with being open and honest; she's always instinctively kept her feelings locked away, only showing a tough exterior to the outside world. But here, with Logan, she has a second chance, a chance to do things right, so she's forcing herself to push down her fear and open up to him.

"I'm trying."

He smiles, then kisses her again, before gently lowering her legs to the floor and turning off the shower. "Come on. I need to get ready."

They step out of the shower and Logan hands her a towel. It's strangely domestic as they dry off, brush their teeth and go about their daily morning routines. As they dress, Veronica in jeans and a clean shirt and Logan in his uniform—which she now can't look at without thinking about the previous afternoon—he offers her the use of his car again, which she's hesitant about, but he insists upon. Apparently Dick is on some kind of business trip— _Dick Casablancas, an actual businessman…who knew?_ —and has given Logan free reign with his car.

Sending Logan off with a kiss and a cheeky squeeze of his fine ass, Veronica spends the morning with her father at the hospital. Keith is much more coherent now and although he's obviously in pain, he tries not to let it show, for her sake, she's sure. They talk about how he's doing, and she tells him she's sticking around for a while, though she's careful not to bring up her newly rekindled relationship with Logan or the fact that she's not planning to return to New York. She doesn't want to bombard him with it when he's only just woken up and is starting to heal. Luckily, he doesn't bring up Logan other than in the context of the Carrie Bishop case.

Unfortunately the same can't be said for Wallace, who she arranges to meet for lunch at Neptune High. On her way to the school, she stops by Mama Leone's to pick up some take out and when she pulls up in the school parking lot, she spots him sitting at a familiar table.

"Hey," she greets, as brightly as she can, giving him a hug and sliding onto the bench, pulling out the food she's brought with her. "What's up?"

"Damn, girl, that is a _fine_ car you just pulled up in," he says by way of greeting. "Not exactly your usual fare—you win the lottery or something?"

"What?" She glances over to where she parked the BMW. "Oh, no, it's Logan's. He let me borrow it."

Wallace's mouth drops open as he looks at her in dismay. "Oh, hell no. Veronica, tell me you're not… again?"

"Wallace…" She starts shaking her head, giving him a pleading expression. "Please don't do this."

"God, what is it with you and that guy?" He scowls. "It's like all he has to do is snap his fingers and you drop everything and come running. What about your new job in New York, huh? What about Piz?"

She shoots him a warning look. "The job fell through, you know that; and Piz and I broke up."

"Yeah, I know. He called me." He sighs. "The guy is a mess, Vee. Can't you at least try to work things out before you shack up with _him_ again?"

"Uh, _he_ broke up with _me_ ," she says incredulously. "It was his decision, not mine."

"And it wasn't just a heat of the moment reaction to you abandoning him for Echolls instead of meeting his parents?" he says. "The guy's madly in love with you, Veronica. And you guys were happy, right? The least you can do is try to work things out."

"Look, Wallace..." she sighs. She should have known he wouldn't understand. "Piz and I… yes, okay, we were happy, to an extent, and he's a great guy, it's just that…"

"He's not Logan," Wallace finishes. "I got it."

"Look, it's not about Logan, okay?" She's getting annoyed now. "With Piz, yeah, it was nice, but that was all it was. There was no spark, no passion. It was too easy. We never argued, we didn't make each other laugh like crazy or cry until we couldn't breathe. We were just coasting along, nice and easy. Honestly? It was kind of boring." She sighs. "I tried to make it work, for the sake of a shiny, new life, for a new Veronica, but it was coming back here that made me realise the girl I was trying to be in New York just wasn't real."

She looks over at Wallace. "As I said, it's not about Logan, or my relationship with him—whatever that may be right now—it's about admitting to myself that I've been living a lie in New York. Logan or not, Neptune is where I belong, it's where I've always belonged."

"So, that's it then? You're staying here?"

She nods. "That's the plan. I mean, I can't leave my dad alone right now; he needs me. And this whole thing with Carrie Bishop and working the case—it's made me realise how much I missed it."

Wallace nods, though she's not sure he really _gets_ it. "And of course, Logan Echolls being here certainly helps, right?"

"That's the thing: he's not going to be," she says. "He ships out on deployment in less than two weeks. He'll be gone for six months."

"Oh."

"Yeah." She glances down at her hands, resting on the table, for a moment, before lifting her head to face him again, bracing herself for his next onslaught against Logan.

Wallace looks at her consideringly for a moment, then his expression softens.

"Look, Vee, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you." He reaches out to squeeze his fingers around hers. "I'm sorry about the job, and about Piz, okay? And I'm glad you're staying in Neptune. I've missed you."

"Me too, Wallace." She smiles, relieved that he's backing down… for now, at least. "I've missed you too."

He releases her hand, sits back and clears his throat. "What do you say we eat, huh? I'm starved."

"Yeah," Veronica nods, sliding one of the boxes of food over to him. "Sorry, it's probably getting cold by now."

Wallace tucks into the take-out lasagne with gusto, swallowing a large mouthful, before asking. "So, how's your dad? He doing okay?"

"As well as can be expected," she says. "He's awake and talking, but he's still in a pretty bad way, you know?"

"Sounds like it was serious."

"Yeah. Fractured ribs, skull and pelvis, not to mention all the cuts and bruises. The doctor said it's gonna be a few months before he's fully healed."

Wallace reaches out, covers her hand with his and squeezes comfortingly. "I'm sorry, Vee."

"Me too, but at least he's alive." She manages a small smile. "If it weren't for Logan, he'd probably be dead."

"What do you mean?" Wallace looks surprised.

"Didn't I tell you? I could have sworn… never mind." She shakes her head. "I was in the kitchen when it happened. Dad had slipped outside to talk to Sacks about something—I don't know what—and Logan was there at the right time. He saw the first crash, and was trying to pull my dad out of the car when the truck came at them again. He got him out right before it hit. If he hadn't…" She shudders, remnants of the nightmare coming back. "I might have lost them both."

"I didn't know." Wallace looks suitably contrite.

Veronica considers him for a moment. "You know, Logan's really not the bad guy you make him out to be." She holds up her hand when he opens his mouth to speak. "I know he's made mistakes and he's done some fucked-up things, but it's been nine years, Wallace. He's changed, he's grown up… we both have."

"I'm sorry," he apologises again. "I admit, I haven't exactly given the guy a fair chance. But you're my best friend and I remember how he was back in high school, and at Hearst too. I just don't want you hurt again, Vee."

"I know, Papa Bear." Wallace smiles at the old nickname. "I don't want that either. But I also know that there are still… feelings there, and I want to see where they take us."


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for the reviews - really appreciate them all :).**

 **This story is currently un-beta'd and I'm not really sure how to go about finding a beta reader, so if anyone has any recommendations for where to find one, I'd be grateful :).**

 **I've also recently joined Tumblr (as heavenli24). I'm still getting used to how to use it and don't really know anyone over there yet :P.**

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

Veronica carries the tray containing two coffees and a slice of cake over to the corner table of the small coffee shop, setting it down and taking a seat. Placing the steaming mugs and the plate of cake down on the table and props the tray on the floor by the window, she notices a fashion magazine discarded on one of the chairs and picks it up, flicking through it absently while she waits for Mac to arrive.

Logan was still out when she finally dragged herself out of bed this morning. Though she'd woken when he rose early to go running, he insisted she stay in bed and get more sleep, considering he'd been the one responsible for keeping her up most of the night. With a quick kiss and a lazy smile, she agreed, burying herself in the soft, cotton sheets and drifting off to sleep again. When she woke again two hours later, the house was still empty, though he'd obviously been back at some point, since he'd left a note on the pillow to say he was running some errands and would be back later. She took a quick shower, then added her own note below his and set out for the hospital to visit her father.

Keith was much more alert today than he had been the previous two days and Veronica took the chance to ask him what he remembered from the accident. It wasn't much, unfortunately, since Sacks hadn't gotten the chance to actually tell him a whole lot, but he had enough information to know something fishy was going on in the sheriff's department and that Sacks was working to expose it.

It's something to go on, at least, and now she knows for sure it wasn't an accident, that someone had very deliberately driven that truck straight into Sacks' car, Veronica's feeling that tell-tale itch to investigate, to get to the bottom of what really happened. Of course, there's not much she can do herself right now, given that her PI licence expired years ago and she no longer has access to the usual search databases, but she figures Mac might be able to do some digging around for her. Hence the mid-morning call to her friend to invite her for coffee and ask for a favour.

"Hey, Bond," Mac greets cheerfully, sliding into the seat across from her.

"Q," Veronica replies with a wide smile. "How's things?"

"Oh, you know," Mac replies airily. "Still selling my soul to the devil for the sake of an incredible salary."

"Good to hear." Veronica smiles, pushing one of the coffees towards Mac, who reaches for it gratefully.

"Thanks." Mac takes a sip, before looking over at her, sympathy obvious in her expression. "I heard about your dad, Veronica. I'm so sorry. How's he doing?"

Veronica shrugs. "He's… well, he's not great, but he's recovering. Which is more than I can say for Deputy Sacks."

"I heard. That's so awful," says Mac. "Do they know what happened?"

"Actually, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about." Veronica leans across the table slightly. "It wasn't an accident, Mac. Someone hit that car deliberately. Twice. I need to find out who did it and why." She gives Mac a pleading look. "You think you can help with a little hacking?"

"You know I'd usually be happy to, Veronica…" Mac looks hesitant. "But I don't know if I should. I could get in serious trouble if anyone at work found out what I was doing."

"I know, but this is bigger than just Sacks or my dad, Mac." Veronica tries to keep the worry and urgency from her tone. "We're talking corruption in the sheriff's department, law enforcement officers suddenly acquiring expensive houses and swimming pools which they couldn't possibly afford on their meagre salaries; not to mention contraband being planted on PCHers, and Weevil being accused of threatening Celeste Kane with a gun when he hasn't carried in years and he was only trying to help her out."

"Veronica…" Mac looks uneasy, her expression conflicted. "Isn't this something you would usually look into yourself?"

"Yeah, I'm kind of stuck on that front right now, since I have no valid PI licence and no database access anymore." Sensing Mac is close to giving in, she pulls out the big guns: the head tilt, the pleading eyes, as she pushes the plate of cake towards her. "Please? I have cake."

Mac eyes the chocolate sponge appreciatively, then sighs in defeat.

"Okay, fine." She holds up a warning finger. "But if I get caught, I'm taking you down with me."

She smiles, relieved. "Thanks, Mac, so much. I really appreciate it."

"Yeah, yeah." Mac rolls her eyes, waving a dismissive hand, before reaching for a fork and slicing into the cake. "Just send over everything you have and I'll see what I can find out."

"Thank you."

Mac gives a smile, takes a bite of cake, swallows, and then lifts the coffee mug to her lips.

"So," she says, placing the mug carefully back down on the table. "I talked to Wallace last night. He said you were staying in town?"

"Yeah." Veronica nods. "I am. With the job falling through and Piz and I breaking up, it feels like the right time. I've missed this place, and I've missed you guys too. Neptune's home, you know?"

"I know." Mac nods. "I'm sorry about the job and Piz, but I'm glad you're back. We've missed you too." They share a smile, before Mac adds, "I also hear you and Logan might be… uh… you know…"

She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively and Veronica laughs.

"You did, huh?" She sighs, giving a wry smile. "Let me guess, Wallace voiced his disapproving opinion?"

"He's just concerned for you," Mac says. "And seeing that they've been friends for so long, he's kind of on the Piz bandwagon, rather than Logan's."

"Yeah, I know he is." Veronica looks down at the mug in front of her. "Look, Logan and I—it's just…"

"Hey, you don't need to explain it to me," says Mac with a smile. "It's your life, your choice."

"Thanks." Veronica's grateful for the support.

"And don't be too hard on Wallace, okay?" Mac says. "I think it's just that doesn't really _know_ Logan, not the way you do. He was there the first time around and he doesn't want to you get hurt again."

"Yeah, I know," agrees Veronica. "And you're right. He and Logan were never really friends."

"For the record, I'm happy for you," Mac assures her. "Unlike Wallace, I did get to know Logan a bit in college. I know he had his issues, but he wasn't a bad guy back then. And I think he really loved you, you know?"

"I know." Something tugs in Veronica's chest at that thought. "Logan's not perfect, I know that, and he's certainly made some bad decisions, but then so have I. It's been nine years; we've both done a lot of growing up in that time, we've both changed, for the better, I think. We're getting to know each other again."

"You think now might be the right time, for the two of you?" Mac looks genuinely curious.

"I hope so." Veronica nods. "I'd like it to be, but it's only been a few days and there's still so much we need to catch up on."

"Of course."

"And you know, it doesn't help that he's shipping out on a six-month deployment in a couple of weeks." She sighs.

"No shit, really?" Mac's eyes widen. "That's gotta suck."

"Yeah, it kinda does," she admits. "I'm trying not to think about it, you know? We're just making the most of the time we have now, and I guess we'll deal with it when it happens."

"I'm sorry." Mac smiles sympathetically, before her lips twitch up into a suggestive grin. "So… you're making the most of it, huh?"

Veronica narrows her eyes at her friend, trying not to smile. "Shut up."

"Veronica Mars," Mac fakes a scandalised expression. "Are you having hot sex with Logan Echolls?"

"No!" The denial is too quick and Mac doesn't buy it for a second. Veronica rolls her eyes. "Okay, fine. Yes. But we're not just having hot sex, we're having unbelievable, incredible, mind-blowingly fantastic sex."

"Really?" Mac's smirk widens into an enthusiastic grin. "Do tell."

Veronica pushes down the urge to clam up, to keep her private life, well, private, but it's been so long since she actually had a girlfriend to confide in—she'd kept most of her law school classmates at arm's reach for the last few years—and it's kind of a relief to talk about it with someone else.

"God, it's like… you know, I can't even describe it." _It's the best sex of my life._ "It's … Mac, it's better now that it ever was before. I don't really know why, or what's changed, but I am definitely not complaining. And his body… God… " She leans forward conspiratorially as she half-whispers, "Let's just say that military life agrees with him in a massive way."

"Just admit it, Bond," Mac says with a grin, leaning in too. "The whole navy pilot thing is a massive turn on for you."

Veronica pauses for a moment, turning that over in her mind, before admitting defeat.

"You know what, it really is." She sighs. "Which is weird, because I've never been one of those girls who 'just loves' a man in uniform, but God, there's just something about him in that white shirt and those pressed trousers…"

"Yum?"

"Definite yum." Veronica groans then burying her face in her hand. "God, look at me, Mac… I'm pathetic."

"No, you're not, Bond." Mac pats her hand comfortingly. "You're human. You've reunited with the love of your life after nine years apart—you're allowed to be mushy."

"Yeah." Veronica clears her throat awkwardly. _Logan, the love of my life? I've never really let myself think of him that way._ "But enough about me. Tell me everything you've been up to… how's working at Kane Software, really?"

As Mac fills her in on the last few months of her life, Veronica sits back and takes it all in with a soft smile. She's missed spending time with Mac and the longer she's here in Neptune, with everyone—Logan, her dad, Wallace, Mac—the more at home she feels.

* * *

Veronica can't help but smile at the sight of Logan sitting across from her at the small table, twisting spaghetti bolognese around his fork expertly and lifting it to his mouth. _Homemade_ spaghetti bolognese, nonetheless, cooked by Logan himself. The atmosphere in the beach house this evening is soft and romantic, the lights dimmed and music playing in the background—a playlist from Logan's iPod—it's something they never really had the luxury of when they were dating before. Back in college, their time together had been spent either on campus, or working on cases, or sneaking away to make love in his hotel suite. They'd never really taken the time to do normal couple things, like romantic home-cooked dinners with accompanying background music.

"What?" Logan asks when he realises she's watching him instead of eating.

Veronica shakes her head, a slight movement. "Nothing. Just savouring the moment."

He smirks. "Because me eating spaghetti is so fascinating?"

"No," she replies, lifting her hands to gesture around her. "Just… this. Us."

"Yeah, who woulda thunk it, huh?" He smirks. "You and me, being all grown up-like."

"It's like we're mature adults or something." She lifts the glass of sparkling water to her lips. "You know, I still can't believe you made this."

His eyebrow rises in amusement. "And yet you watched me do it."

"So when did you learn to cook?"

He thinks for a moment. "It was about three or four years ago. I was in flight school in Pensacola." Off her questioning look, he clarifies, "Florida. Up until then I'd lived off room service, take-out, microwave junk food and mess hall meals, but in my second year of flight training I was living in an apartment off base with a couple of the guys. One of them—Chaos—"

"Chaos?"

"Call sign. Real name's Tim," Logan explains. "Chaos had been to culinary school before college. Everyone gave him hell for it, until he pointed out that cooking was a useful skill for impressing the ladies… after that, all the guys were on him, asking for tips and lessons. Being his roommate, I got first dibs on the lessons."

 _Colour me surprised._ Veronica sat back in her seat, impressed _. Logan took cooking lessons_.

She can't resist asking, "So, did it work… with the ladies?"

"You tell me." He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I didn't get a whole lot of opportunity to test it out, with deployments and everything, and Carrie wasn't really into dinner at home… she liked to eat out, wanted to be seen."

"Yeah, it worked." A slow smile spreads across her face as she nods. Then his last words register and she sobers slightly. "So, uh, Carrie…"

He tenses slightly. "Yeah?"

"How, uh… ?" she starts, then changes her mind, thinking better of it. "You know what, never mind."

Logan looks at her, expression serious. "You can ask me about her, I don't mind."

Veronica studies him for a moment, looking for any sign he doesn't really mean it, before speaking.

"Okay…I'm just curious how you two got together. I mean, you in the navy and her a rising pop star, doesn't seem like your paths would cross that easily."

"Yeah, they probably wouldn't have under normal circumstances," he agrees. "But you know, how it is, Neptune High alum and all that."

Veronica nods. _Can't escape anyone in Neptune._

"We bumped into each other two summers ago at the 09er," he says. "I'd just gotten back from my first deployment and Dick decided we needed to celebrate. Carrie was at the club and we got to talking, you know, reminiscing about the 'good ole' high school days'." There's a hint of sarcasm in his tone at that and Veronica can't help but agree with his sentiment. High school hadn't been easy on either of them. "Anyway, we got on well; she was fun and easy to talk to and we started hanging out when I was in town, got closer… fell in love, I guess."

He shakes his head then, as if trying to shake himself out of the memories, and Veronica feels a stab of guilt for bringing it up, even though he encouraged her to. She reaches across the table, rests her hand on his forearm.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"It's okay, Veronica." He stops her, his eyes dark and serious. "I loved her, but in the end, our relationship just wasn't healthy. She was losing herself, burying her pain in drugs and alcohol. I couldn't stay with her and watch her destroy her life like that. After we broke up, I tried the best I could to help, and maybe she would have gotten clean eventually, but…" He shrugs. "I guess I'll never know."

"Logan…" Veronica's heart clenches with sympathy.

"No, don't." He shakes his head, holding a hand up to stop her. "I'm okay. I just—I can't change the past, so…"

"Yeah."

He huffs out a laugh then. "Sorry, that kind of took a depressing turn."

She winces slightly. "I probably shouldn't have asked."

"No, it's okay." His head tilts up so he's looking directly at her. "I'm glad you did. I don't want you to feel like you can't ask me stuff."

Veronica studies him for a moment, noting his sincere expression, before nodding. "Okay."

She knows she should probably say the same to him, let him know he's welcome to ask her anything, but she's kept everything to herself for so long, is so used to doing it, that it's still a daunting prospect.

There's a pause, a moment of silence between them, then Logan glances over toward the stereo, and holds out a hand to her. "Dance with me?"

Veronica blinks, surprised by both the sudden change in subject and the invitation.

"You want to dance?" she asks in confusion.

"Yeah, why not?"

He gives her a lopsided smile. "Humour me?"

"Okay."

She tugs the napkin from her lap, scrunching it on the table, and slips her hand in his, allowing him to guide her into the centre of the room, the half-eaten spaghetti forgotten. The song changes as he slides his hands around her waist and Veronica lets her arms circle his neck, as the strains of familiar notes sound from the speakers. As they sway together, Logan lowers his mouth to her ear.

"You know, when I dreamed of this moment, _I've Had the Time of My Life_ was always playing…" Veronica freezes, the words familiar somehow. It takes a moment to place them, then she remembers: Spring Fling, senior year; that immensely awkward dance they'd shared. "And what do you know… it finally is."

"Logan…"

She lifts her head, the tender half-smile gracing his lips causing tendrils of warmth to creep down her spine. He's so close, his breath warm on her cheek, palms resting against her lower back, fingers splayed and tracing tiny patterns. She turns her head slightly, so their lips are almost touching, but she doesn't move, simply looks into his eyes, relishing the feeling of anticipation.

It's Logan who takes the choice away, swooping down and capturing her mouth with his. It's so soft at first, just tiny nibbles that send tingles along her arms, right to her fingertips and leave her head spinning, but then he deepens it, his tongue slipping in, tangling with hers, and she tightens her arms around his neck, letting herself fall into the sensations. She only vaguely registers the warm tones of Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes in the background, the scent of Logan's aftershave and hints of his shampoo invading her senses instead.

"I'm not sure this counts as dancing," she manages, her voice a breathy whisper, when his mouth leaves hers and starts kissing a trail along her jaw.

"Problem with that?" he murmurs against her skin and she realises his voice is just as unsteady as hers.

"No."

"Good."

His hands slide down over her ass, fingers digging into the denim of her jeans as he tugs her closer, bringing her body flush with his. She can feel his arousal pressing against her and her stomach clenches in response. His lips are on hers again as he walks her backwards, towards the alcove. She feels the back of her legs come into contact with the edge of the bed and before she has time to register it, she finds herself on her back, Logan pressing her into the soft mattress, his body covering hers deliciously as he kisses her.

He kneels, pulling the long-sleeved Henley over his head, then reaches for the hem of her top and tugs it off, discarding both to the floor. Veronica sighs, running her hands through his short hair as he buries his nose in her neck, then kisses his way down to her chest, his hands fumbling for the button and zipper on her jeans. He's tender, not in any hurry, as he carefully eases the denim down over her hips, sliding the jeans down her legs until they too fall to the floor. He stands then, Veronica following his every move, watching from beneath hooded eyes as he unbuckles his pants and tugs them off, along with his boxers.

"You're beautiful," he tells her sincerely, settling over her once more, lowering his head to kiss her briefly before looking down at her, supporting his weight on his arms, eyes full of unspoken emotion.

"I'm—" She glances down at her mismatched underwear, the soft curve of her stomach, her wider hips. "—Logan, I know I've changed… I'm not nineteen anymore—"

He cuts her off with an urgent, heated kiss, one that makes all coherent thought flee from her mind.

"Veronica, you're gorgeous," he says firmly.

"Yeah?"

She doesn't mean to sound so unsure, she's usually so confident in herself; but this is Logan; he's spent the nine years only remembering her as the skinny teenager she used to be.

He frowns, no doubt seeing her uncertainty.

"You're seriously worried about this?" he sounds incredulous. "Veronica, you have absolutely nothing to be self-conscious about, okay?"

"Yeah." She nods, feeling stupid for being insecure. "Yeah, I know. Just forget my moment of temporary insanity."

"For the record, you're fucking sexy as hell now." He kisses her again, then lifts his head, giving a smirk. "I saw all those guys hitting on you in the 09er the other week. That should tell you something."

"You saw that, huh?" He nods and she relaxes, giving a small chuckle when she sees his slightly annoyed expression. "Wait, you weren't… jealous, were you?"

"'Course I was," he admits, shifting so he's balancing his weight on one elbow and can run his fingers through her hair.

"You didn't need to be," she says, leaning up to kiss him. "Those guys were assholes. I handled them."

"I'm sure you did." He smirks. "But enough about them. I was about to show you exactly how sexy I think you are."

She raises an eyebrow, a rush of warmth and anticipation flowing over her. "You were, huh?"

He nods, lowering his mouth to hers, tongue sliding inside as he kisses her deeply. His hands are everywhere as he rolls them over, holding her to him, her chest flush against his, her legs falling either side of his hips. Veronica feels breathless, her head spinning, arousal increasing rapidly. Breaking the kiss for a moment, she lifts herself up, hand pressing against his chest as she reaches for a condom from the bedside table. She tears the packet open and rolls it onto him. Not bothering to remove her underwear, Logan tugs the material aside, positioning himself at her entrance and pushing up in a fluid movement.

"God…" Veronica's head drops to his chest, the feeling of him filling her making her gasp.

His hands curve around her ass, guiding her movements as he rocks up into her, and the feeling is incredible, tendrils of pleasure shooting along her nerves. She slides her hand up to cup his jaw, kisses his lips again, then the tip of his nose, his temple, his cheek, the underside of his jaw…anywhere she can. His forehead drops to her shoulder, holding her close, breathing her in as he thrusts into her. It's heady, passionate, like they can't get enough of each other, but also somehow steady and controlled at the same time.

Veronica just lets all the feelings flow over her, accepts them eagerly, as she finds herself fleetingly wondering how she could ever have been satisfied with anyone else. This, right here with Logan, is perfection.

* * *

Two nights later, Veronica steps out onto the patio of Dick's beach house, tugging one of Logan's oversized sweatshirts on over her nightclothes. It's almost 11 p.m. and though Logan is already out cold, sleeping like a baby, she can't seem to relax, memories of her father's accident and Gia Goodman's dead body swirling through her mind. She tossed and turned for a while, then realised she was in danger of waking Logan, so slipped out of the bed and headed out onto the patio. Moving to the edge of the wooden decking, she sits down on the edge, letting her toes run through the cool sand.

She's been back in Neptune for 13 days now, back with Logan for almost five, the last two of which have passed in a haze of sleep, food and extremely satisfying sex. It's crazy to think how much has happened, how much has changed in those 13 days. Two weeks ago, she never thought she'd see Logan Echolls again, in fact, she'd finally got herself to a place where she could go days, weeks even, without even thinking of him, where she had convinced herself she was okay, that she was content with her life as it was. Then his phone call came and everything she worked so hard to build started to fall apart.

Not that it's a bad thing; though from the looks he's been giving her lately, she's not sure her father would agree. But these last few days with Logan, she's been happier and more content than she can ever remember before.

"V'ronica?" Logan's sleepy voice sounds from behind her and she looks over her shoulder to see him standing in the patio doorway, scratching at his stomach under his t-shirt as he yawns. His hair is sticking up in all directions; he looks gorgeous, all rumpled and drowsy. "What're you doing out here?"

"Hey," she says softly. "Sorry, couldn't sleep."

He nods, running a hand through his hair before stepping out onto the decking and moving to join her on the edge. She turns back to look out at the ocean again, watching the moonlight reflect off its smooth surface.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah." She nods. "Just can't get my mind to switch off."

"I know that feeling."

"Didn't want to wake you up with all the tossing and turning."

He smiles, nudging her side, his tone suggestive as he says, "You know you can wake me anytime, _snookums_."

"Yeah, right." She snorts a small laugh, rolling her eyes. "I've seen you when you're woken unexpectedly. You'd think World War III was starting."

"That was before. Not so much anymore." He shrugs and she frowns, not comprehending, so he elaborates, "Being in the navy, there's a certain amount of sacrifice required. For me, the big one was my beauty sleep—hey!" Logan frowns in mock offense when Veronica snickers. _His beauty sleep, huh?_ "Anyway, we have to be prepared for anything, to be up and ready to take off in twenty minutes if necessary, which means unexpected wake-up calls at any time of the night."

"Well, that sounds… wonderful." She scrunches up her nose in distaste.

"Yeah, my sentiments exactly…" He looks out at the ocean, giving another shrug. "You get used to it."

She watches him for a long moment, studying his profile. So much has changed, _he's_ changed, and she's sure she has too. There's so much she doesn't know about him now, so much of his life that she's missed.

"So, what's up?" he asks then, still gazing out at the ocean. "You've got one of your _I'd rather be…_ faces on."

"I was just thinking—"

"Ouch, don't hurt yourself," he quips, a smile playing on his lips.

She rolls her eyes, nudging his side. "Can you be serious for a second?"

The smile drops and he turns to her, expression sober but full of warmth. "Of course. What's up?"

Veronica looks down at her feet, rocking forward on the edge of the decking, hands braced on the wood either side of her hips. She knows what she wants to say, just doesn't really know how to articulate it.

"We haven't really talked about…" She sucks in a breath. "About what happens now."

She can feel his eyes on her. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, this—" She lifts one hand, gestures between them. "Us. I know we've kind of just been living in the moment, but you're leaving in ten days and…well, what then?"

Logan reaches over and takes her hand, linking his fingers through hers, bringing it up to his mouth and dropping a light kiss to her knuckles.

"I don't know." She frowns. _He doesn't know?_ He must notice her expression, because he adds, "I spent a long time trying to get over you, Veronica Mars." He lets out a small chuckle. "You know, you're not an easy person to get over."

She feels a guilty tug in her chest. "Logan—"

"No, let me say this." He looks at her earnestly. "I was a mess back then, and it took a long time for me to get to a place where I wasn't anymore. For a long while, I thought that to get there, I needed to let you go completely, to never see you again and have that be the end of it."

He sucks in a steadying, almost shaky breath, and she tightens her fingers around his. Then he looks at her with an expression she didn't think she'd ever see from him again: completely open and honest.

"But you know what, it turns out I was wrong. Turns out, it was the rest of me that was broken; not the part that loved you, but everything else. And until I worked through all of that, until I fixed the rest of me, I wasn't going to be in a place where I could even think of having you back in my life again."

"What are you saying… exactly?" She thinks she knows, but she needs to hear him say it.

"I never stopped loving you, Veronica," he admits. "Even when I tried to convince myself that I didn't, that I could move on, part of me could never quite let go."

"Logan…" It comes out as a pleading sort of whisper this time.

"It's been nine years, and you're here, and we're still… " He fumbles over the words a little and it makes her smile. "It's still as good as ever, better even… and I don't…" He shifts, turning towards her, hand still gripping hers, studying her seriously, intently. "I don't think I can let you go again, Veronica. I don't want to."

She looks into his eyes, sees the barely concealed emotion there, realises with a start that her own eyes are getting moist. She turns to face him, resting one leg on the decking, the other dangling down into the sand. Her free hand comes up, cupping his jaw, stroking the light stubble gently.

"I don't want to either, Logan."

He smiles tremulously, not bothering to hide his relief. Her eyes flick to his mouth and then she's leaning in, capturing his lips with hers, pouring everything she's feeling into the kiss. When they pull apart, Logan rests his forehead against hers, just like he used to, and it's so familiar… too familiar… and she knows has to say it. She kisses him lightly on the lips once more, then moves back, putting several inches of distance between them, clasping his hand in hers.

"Look, I know we said 'bygones' and all that, but Logan, there are nine years of unspoken history and separate lives between us right now." She exhales slowly, gripping his hand, threading their fingers together. "I need to tell you that I'm so sorry for how things ended back then, for just walking out and leaving like that."

"Veronica…" He shakes his head. "No, it's—"

"Don't say it's okay, Logan." She cuts him off quickly. "It's not. But it was something I had to do, for myself, and for everyone else."

She looks down at their linked fingers, summoning courage from the contact.

"I was… not in a good place at nineteen," she admits, avoiding his gaze. "I was angry and vengeful, and I couldn't trust anyone. I couldn't trust _you_. I should have done, but I didn't know how." Logan's thumb brushes over her skin, but he doesn't say anything. "I was suspicious of everything and everyone; I was being reckless and stupid and it was ruining me. It cost my dad everything, Logan. He sacrificed his career to protect me and I couldn't handle that. I _had_ to leave, because if I didn't, I was going to self-destruct and I would have brought everyone else down with me."

She stops. There, it's finally out. There's a moment of silence, and she can't bear to look up at him, doesn't want to see the look in his eyes she's sure is there.

"Veronica…" His voice sounds broken and it makes her head snap up. He's watching her, a look of sadness on his face, tears glistening in his eyes. "It's okay. I understand. You did what you had to do."

"Really?"

He nods, sucking in a breath. "I didn't get it at the time, but we would never have worked back then. We were both so messed up, and I don't think either of us had actually dealt with any of it." He sighs, looking over at the ocean for a second, before facing her again. "We just brushed all the crap under the rug and pretended it wasn't there. It took me a long time to realise it, but our relationship would never have worked like that, no matter how hard we tried to make it. We were bad for each other, toxic even, and if we'd stayed together, we would have destroyed each other."

"Wow," she murmurs, feeling like the breath has been knocked out of her. "Tell it like it is, why don't you."

"I'm serious, Veronica," he says, his expression solemn. "I think we both knew we were heading for disaster, even if we refused to admit it. You did the right thing by leaving, by getting out."

"Yeah." She nods slowly. _He's right. Of course he is._ "So, uh, how did you get so wise about all this?"

Instead of answering, he studies her thoughtfully for a long moment, then asks softly. "Hey, Veronica, have you ever… talked to anyone, about everything that happened?"

"You mean like a professional?" She's surprised by the question.

"Yeah." He nods.

"I, uh…" She's hesitant to answer, though she's not really sure why. "Yeah, I have." She jerks her thumb towards her chest. "Psych major here… therapy was kind of an unspoken requirement."

His fingers tighten around hers as he nods. "Did it help?"

"Yeah, it did. I mean, it took a long while to feel comfortable enough to open up, to talk about… everything, but I think it was the right thing for me. It helped me work through some things." She glances over at him. His sombre gaze is focused on the ocean again. "Why do you ask?"

"Because it helped me too," he admits quietly. "A lot."

"You had a therapist?" She can't help the incredulous tone. The Logan she knew was the last person she ever thought would willingly seek out help from a professional.

He nods. "I still do."

"Really?"

"What?" He sounds defensive and she's quick to backtrack.

"I didn't mean… it's just I find it a little hard to picture you in therapy, that's all."

"Believe me, I felt the same way at the beginning. It was pretty much the last place I wanted to be." He lets out a small chuckle. "But it was one of the requirements, and I guess you know as well as anyone how much it can help, so I just kept going."

She nods in understanding. "It was part of your navy training?"

"Uh, yeah."

Veronica doesn't miss the slight hesitation before he answers. He flashes a quick smile, though it doesn't meet his eyes. She frowns; there's definitely something he's not telling her. She's dying to ask, but thinks better of it when he smiles, the seriousness clearing from his expression.

"Hey, come here."

He extracts his fingers from hers and shifts round, sliding his arm around her shoulder. She complies, snuggling into his side, looking out over the ocean. She feels him drop a kiss to the top of her head.

"This view is amazing."

"Yeah," he murmurs. "Dick might not be the sharpest tool, but he certainly knows prime real estate."

She can't help the small laugh that escapes her lips. "That he does."

They sit together in silence for a couple of minutes, before Logan squeezes her waist with her fingers and she lifts her head to look at him, only for his mouth to capture hers in a gentle, sweet kiss.

"Let's go back to bed."

She nods and lets him help her up, taking her hand and leading her back inside. She tugs his sweatshirt over her head and they climb back into his bed. He pulls her close, languidly kissing her lips, then her nose, cheeks, jaw, neck… every exposed inch of skin he can find. She simply holds him close, running her fingers through his hair, savouring the tranquil moment.

 _We'll be okay. We'll make this work. This time._


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** I had the idea for this story before I even knew there were any Veronica Mars books - I've since read them, but my idea of how Logan joined the navy is a little different from what we now know from the books. I still wanted to write my version of it, but I've tried to keep as close to what we know from MKAT as I can, so that it's not completely out of canon.

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

Logan props himself up on one elbow, resting his head in his hand, watching Veronica sleep peacefully beside him. She's snuggled close, her head buried in the pillow, one hand folded close to her chest while the other rests lightly on his hip. Her knees are tucked up under her, her shins resting against his thighs. Somehow she manages to look both incredibly cute and sensually gorgeous at the same time. He's loath to wake her, but he has plans for the day and they don't involve sleeping.

His mouth twitches up into a smile and he lifts his other hand, his fingers gently tracing her cheek, pushing back the strands of hair that have fallen across it. _She's here, she's in my bed, and she says she's not going anywhere._ He still can't quite believe it—that she's actually with him right now, that she's planning to stay here in Neptune. He keeps expecting to wake up and find himself alone, Veronica still living her life in New York.

Unable to resist, he leans forward, nuzzles her neck, presses a gentle kiss to her jaw. His arm slides around her waist as he lets his mouth trail softly along her cheek, barely touching the smooth, warm skin. She lets out a small sound, then shifts slightly, still sleeping. His smile widening, he lowers his mouth to hers in a feather-light kiss. He turns a little, nudges her knees apart with his own, slips his thigh between hers. She makes another sound and snuggles closer. Feeling daring, Logan applies more pressure against her mouth, nibbling at her lips, his hand sliding round, palm flattening against her lower back.

"Mmm…"

She mumbles against his mouth, the hand resting on his hip sliding round and upwards, over his chest and to his shoulder. Her fingers stroke the short hair at the nape of his neck as she parts her lips, deepening the kiss, allowing him access. He pulls her nearer, savouring the feel of her warm, naked body against his, as he kisses her languidly _. I can't get enough of her._

"Hmm, this is more like it." Her voice is sleep-filled, muffled against his mouth and it's fucking sexy. He tightens his arm around her. He feels her lips curve up into a smile then she kisses him once more, before lifting her head.

"Morning." She's smiling lazily at him, her eyes soft and relaxed, and the sight of her makes his heart stutter in his chest. _She's so beautiful_.

He lifts a finger, strokes gently down her nose. "Morning."

"Can we just stay like this forever?"

The corner of his mouth lifts. "It would be nice, but I do have a reason for waking you up."

"Really?" Her eyebrow rises endearingly. "And what could that be? Mind-blowing sex, perhaps? 'Cos I'd be up for that."

"Sadly, no."

"No?" Her lower lip juts out. She closes her eyes again. "In that case, I'm going back to sleep."

"Oh no, you don't." He grins. "You and me, we're going surfing, Mars."

She stiffens, eyes flying open in bewilderment. "We're doing what now?"

"Surfing," he repeats, giving her a wide smile.

"But…" She sputters. "I hate surfing."

"How do you know if you've never even tried?" he counters.

"You don't know that," she protests quickly. "I could be a master at it for all you know."

He just raises a sceptical eyebrow. "You're telling me you became an expert surfer while living in New York?"

She huffs. "I wasn't in New York the _whole_ time."

"Oh, yeah, you were at Stanford… which is, what, 20 miles from the beach? I can't see you making that journey too often between classes." He looks at her seriously. "So tell me, Veronica Mars: did you in fact learn how to surf at any point in the last nine years?"

She cringes, the answer obvious in her downcast eyes. "Well… no, but—"

He cuts her off with a finger to her lips. "Then we're getting out of bed and I'm teaching you how."

"But, Logan…"

"No, buts," he tells her firmly, touching his finger to her nose again, and then extracting himself from her and climbing out of the bed. "Get your cute ass up. Time's a wastin'."

She groans, burying her head in the pillows, and he grins as he pads over to the set of drawers in the corner and pulls out a pair of neoprene swim shorts.

"You have a bikini with you, right?" he tosses over his shoulder as he tugs them on.

"Yes." She sighs resignedly. "But, Logan, I am not going surfing in just a bikini."

"Didn't say you were," he retorts. "Dick has a ton of wetsuits stashed around here. I'm sure we can find one small enough to fit you, shorty."

* * *

"I really don't think this is a good idea." Veronica eyes the large waves warily, as they roll and crash into the shore.

She slides her finger beneath the neck of the wetsuit she's wearing, tugging at it. _This thing is so claustrophobic. Not to mention so fucking tight I might as well be naked._

"Oh, don't be a baby." Beside her, Logan rolls his eyes, leaning against the surfboard propped up in the sand. "We're not even going in yet."

"We're not?"

He sighs, sounding like he's trying his hardest not to utter a sarcastic retort. "Before you actually try it for real, it's easier if you learn the techniques on dry land. So, first we practice here, then we try it in the water."

"Right. Okay."

She doesn't really want to do this. Despite growing up in Neptune, she's never been particularly enamoured of the ocean and has never had any real desire to try surfing. But Logan loves it; he wants to teach her, seems convinced she will enjoy it if she gives it a chance, and she can't quite find it in herself to say no. _Though that doesn't necessarily mean it's going to be fun._

He instructs her to lay her board down on the sand, and he does the same. He sits on his board, talks her through what to do, demonstrating as he does so. He makes her repeat it all and she feels kind of ridiculous lying on a surfboard in the sand, pretending to paddle. At least this is a private, residential beach and there isn't anyone around to see her making a fool out of herself.

Next, Logan shows her how to stand, where to position her feet and her weight when she does it, so she won't fall off, but rather than listening to him, she finds herself caught up in watching him demonstrate. He's fluid in his movements, graceful even, and it makes her smile. He always loved the ocean; she remembers how in Junior High he used to talk her and Lilly's ears off about the biggest waves he caught that morning, and how they used to giggle and roll their eyes at each other over how much of a surf geek he was.

His hand waving in front of her face pulls her out of the memory. "Veronica, you even listening to a word I'm saying?"

"What? Yes, I'm listening." She says it too quickly and his brows rise in suspicion.

"Of course you are." He's kneeling on his board and his lips quirk up in a smirk. He gestures towards her. "Okay, then, your turn. Show me your pop-up technique."

 _Uh oh._ She looks down at her board, trying to remember what he's just told her. "Um, sure…"

He chuckles then. "I knew it. You weren't paying any attention."

"Hey…" She holds her hands up in defence. "It's not my fault you look so good in a wetsuit. I got distracted."

"Did you now?" He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and then muses, "Hmm, who knew that the great Veronica Mars could be brought to her knees by a guy in a wetsuit?"

"Not _a_ guy," she returns playfully. "Just you."

"Really?" He grins widely, eyebrow rising. "Noted."

She can't help smiling too, watching his reaction. He looks so carefree and unburdened, and that's something she hasn't seen in him since… well, actually she's not sure she's ever seen him genuinely happy like this before. It's a sobering reminder of the past, of the crap-fest that was his childhood.

"Sorry," she apologises sincerely, when she realises he's looking at her expectantly. "I'm listening now, I promise."

"Okay."

He goes through it again, and this time, she pays attention, dutifully following his instructions and copying his movements. Next thing she knows, he's attaching the leash of her board to her ankle and they're heading into the water. He leaves his board on the sand and instead stands beside her, waist-deep in the ocean as he shows her what to do.

For the first few minutes, it's horrible. The board is too big for her, and it's heavy too, banging against her lower back every time a wave hits from behind. She's sure it will leave bruises. And she can't seem to actually stay on the board, no matter how hard she tries. Logan keeps laughing every time she scrambles on and then promptly slips off and it's starting to piss her off.

"Shut up!" She whacks his arm in frustration. "It's not funny."

"Sorry." He seems to be striving for serious but she can hear the barely-concealed amusement in his tone.

"I hate this." She huffs angrily. "Can't we just come to a mutual agreement that I'm terrible at surfing and leave it at that?"

"Hey." He moves round to stand in front of her, expression contrite. "Look, I'm sorry I laughed, okay? It's always tricky at first, but if you give up now, you'll never even know if you like it."

"Logan, come on." She huffs, waving her hand at their surroundings. "This is your thing, not mine. You can't force me to enjoy it."

"I'm not trying to force you to do anything," he tells her sincerely. "I just wanted to share one of my hobbies with you, show you why I love it so much."

 _Great one, Veronica. He's just trying to let you in, share his interest with you, and you're acting like an ungrateful brat._

"Logan…"

"Look, it's okay. If you really don't want to, we can stop."

"No." She shakes her head. "I'm sorry. I'm just…"

"You're just getting frustrated because it's not coming easy to you, and you absolutely hate the idea of failing at anything. You always have." His tone is astute, and there's nothing she can say to that, because it's completely true. "Look, let's try again, okay? But we'll do it differently this time."

"Okay."

He moves behind her and helps her up onto the board, so she's kneeling in the middle, then climbs on too, sitting behind her, legs straddling the board.

"First you're just going to get used to being on the board," he says, his hands coming up to rest on her waist.

He guides her through how to get her weight in the right place, how to position herself, what do to if she falls off and the best way to get back on again. Then he helps her stand, shows her how to balance, his hands steadying her. It's a lot different being in the water compared with just practicing on the sand. The board is a lot less stable, for one thing, and more than once she finds herself toppling over when one of the larger waves rocks the board.

Eventually, when he decides she's got the hang of it, he slides off and gets her to lie down, showing her how to paddle, how to catch unbroken waves. When one such wave catches the board and surges her forward, she finds herself laughing, exhilarated, as the water surges around her, the force of it pushing her along. The wave breaks suddenly, sending her flying off the board and under the water, but she can't find it in herself to be annoyed and she breaks the surface with a sputtering laugh.

Logan makes his way over to her, a grin on his face. "See? That was fun, right?"

"No," she denies, sticking her tongue out at him childishly, but still grinning right back. "Okay, maybe it was… just a little."

She spends another few minutes paddling and letting the waves carry her smoothly across the surface, before Logan decides it's time to try standing up. This part, she quickly realises, is much trickier, and after falling off for about the tenth time, she wonders if she's ever going to get the hang of it.

"You're doing great, Veronica." Logan keeps telling her, though she's really not so sure about that. She's about to give up, call it a day, when he says, "Come on, one last try…" He pouts. "… For me?"

And even though she rolls her eyes at him, she can't bring herself to say no.

 _Okay, you can do this, Veronica._ She eyes the approaching wave, positions herself on the board, just as he's shown her, and starts paddling. _Just have to time it right._

"Get ready," calls Logan.

She keeps paddling, watching the wave, gets herself into position, ready to pop up.

"Okay, now!"

With a deep breath, she braces her hands on the board, tucks her toes beneath her and pushes up, hoping her feet have made it to the right position. And then she's standing, arms outstretched, trying to keep her balance.

 _Oh my God, I'm actually doing_ _it_. She grins, as the water surges beneath the board, sweeping her along with it. _This is kind of awesome_.

Of course, the moment she starts to relax and enjoy the sensation of the wind whipping past her ears, is the moment that it all comes crashing down. Literally. She feels the board tilt, her knees buckling as she tries to keep control of it, and then she's being pulled under, water filling her mouth as the board hits her hard in the side. For a moment, she panics, unable to breath, but then she feels arms coming around her, pulling her up, and she surfaces, coughing and spluttering.

"You okay?" Logan asks when she's managed to catch her breath and has finally stopped choking.

"Yep." She grins up at him, the board bumping against her lower back. "Logan, I did it!"

"You did," he replies with a smile, wrapping his arms around her waist as he looks down at her.

"That was so cool."

"What did I tell you?"

She narrows her eyes, fighting the urge to wipe the smug smirk from his face. She decides to kiss it away instead.

"Wanna do it again?" he asks when they part. She shakes her head.

"No, I think I'm done for today," she says. In truth, she can feel her legs and arms beginning to ache and she's sure she's going to be covered in bruises later.

"Okay, we'll head back."

She grabs the board and they wade out of the ocean and back up onto the beach, to where Logan left his board earlier.

"Hey," she says when they stop, nodding towards the water. "Why don't you go back in for a while… I'm sure you're dying to catch some of those waves."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'll just head back inside, take a shower, get changed." She rises up onto her tiptoes, placing a soft kiss on his lips. "Take your time."

"Okay."

He flashes her a grin, and she watches as he grabs his board and heads back into the surf. With an affectionate shake of her head, she makes her way back to the beach house, propping the board up against the wall and then shimmying out of the wetsuit as gracefully as she can (which isn't very at all), so that she doesn't get the living room floor all wet.

She pads through the house to the bathroom and takes a hot shower, rinsing away all the salt and sand from her hair and body, then towels off and changes into a clean, dry bikini— _Glad I brought an extra one—_ pulling a tank top and a pair of shorts over the top. When she's dressed, she grabs her sunglasses, a couple of beach towels and some dry clothes for Logan, then heads into the kitchen for a couple of bottles of water, before heading back out onto the beach.

With a contented smile, she lays out one of the towels and settles down on it, leaning back on her hands, legs stretched out, crossed in front of her, watching Logan as he expertly manoeuvres his board through the waves. _I'd forgotten how good he was._ He's even more graceful in the water and she can't help but be impressed. _I wonder how often he gets to do this anymore._

Logan spends a few more minutes in the water, before making his way back up the beach towards her.

"Hey," he greets as he places the board down in the sand, releasing the leash from his ankle, and then unzips his wetsuit to his waist, tugging his arms out of it and letting it fall to his waist.

"Here." Veronica hands him a towel.

"Thanks."

He rubs his hair, then runs the towel across his face, along his arms and over his torso, and she can't help but follow the movement with her eyes. She wasn't kidding before about his physique. He's certainly become leaner, more _sculpted_ , over the last few years. He drops the towel, then moves to sit behind her, legs resting on either side of her hips, and slips his hands around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.

She makes a face when she feels the dampness from his wetsuit soaking into her shorts "Logan. You're getting me all wet."

"Am I?" He chuckles, his breath tickling her ear. "Kinky."

She elbows him playfully.

"Thanks for indulging me this morning." He says then, his voice soft. "I've always wanted to take you surfing."

"It was fun," she admits reluctantly. "But don't get too excited; I'm not sure it's something I'll be doing on a regular basis."

He doesn't say anything, just keeps his chin resting on her shoulder and looks out at the vast expanse of Pacific Ocean.

"I've missed this, you know." She speaks softly. "The beach. The ocean. Don't get me wrong, I liked Stanford, and New York was great, but Neptune's home, you know?"

"Yeah."

"I don't think I realised how much I missed it until I came back."

"Yeah," he says again.

"Do you—?"

"What?"

"Do you get to do this much these days?"

"What, sit on the beach with a gorgeous blonde in my arms?"

"No." She rolls her eyes. "Surf."

He sighs, tightening his arms around her. "No, not as much as I'd like to. Not much opportunity for catching waves when you're stuck on a metal trap in the middle of the ocean."

"No, I guess not."

"There is a beach not far from the base, but there's not a whole lot of time for surfing when I'm there."

"Do you miss it?"

"Yeah, sometimes." He nods against her shoulder. "When I'm on the board, riding the waves, I feel free, like I'm at peace with the world. But I also have a lot more than surfing in my life now."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I get the same feeling when I'm flying—more so, even." His voice sounds almost awed. "There's nothing like it. It's this incredible feeling, being up there, thousands of feet above the ground, looking down at the world. It's like I'm finally in control; I'm in charge and nothing can hurt me up there. It's freedom." He pauses, more serious now. "It's exactly what I was always meant to do."

Veronica is silent for a long moment, taking that in, trying to imagine what it might actually feel like. She decides to voice the question that's been on her mind ever since she learned of his career choice.

"Is that why you joined up?"

He sighs heavily and it's full of emotion. For a moment, she thinks he's not going to respond, that she's said the wrong thing, but then he starts speaking, seeming to pick his words carefully.

"No, the freedom that flying affords is just an added bonus."

One of his hands leaves her waist as he picks up a handful of sand, letting it run through his fingers.

"Veronica," he starts quietly. "That summer, after… after you left, I wasn't in a good place. In fact, I was a fucked-up mess. I was failing school, I had no direction, no goals, no one to turn to. And I just stopped. I stopped trying, I stopped caring. Instead, I lost myself in a haze of drinking and partying."

"Logan…" She doesn't know what to say, can't help feeling like it was her fault; for leaving, for not being there for him, for not understanding, not trusting him.

"At the time, I thought I could handle it, kept telling myself I was fine, I was just being a normal college kid. But then the drugs happened, and I started spiralling. I didn't realise how far gone I was until it was too late."

Veronica stills, closing her eyes, a horrible feeling settling in her stomach at the implication of his words. _God, Logan. What happened to you?_

"It was Dick who found me the first time, a few months after you left." He's methodically scraping up handfuls of sand, letting it cascade to the ground through his fingers. "Passed out on the floor of the suite at the Grand, lying in a pool of vomit, a half-empty bottle of vodka in my hand and the remnants of several lines of coke on the coffee table."

"Oh, God." Her hand comes to her mouth, and she feels tears stinging her eyes. She's glad he's behind her and can't see her face.

"I was okay." He says, without any emotion. "He got me to the hospital, kept it quiet so the press wouldn't find out. They pumped my stomach. I survived. I went on… though I'm still not sure I was exactly living."

"The first time?" It comes out as a strangled sort of whisper. _Oh, Logan._

"Yeah… apparently one overdose wasn't enough of a wake-up call." He gives a humourless sort of chuckle. "I didn't see anything worth living for. I dropped out of Hearst partway through sophomore year, convinced myself that I was just another Hollywood screw-up, and basically lived the stereotypical life of drugs, alcohol and sex." He chuckles again, harshly. "Guess you know you're a complete fuck-up when even Dick is scared for you."

"What happened?" She's not sure she really wants to know, but she needs to.

"I woke up in the hospital one day, in ICU. Apparently I'd been in a coma for three days." He says it so matter-of-factly that she can't stop the tear that leaks from her eye. "It was just after the anniversary of Lilly's death. Five years. I'd gone to the beach, sat in her favourite spot, toasted her memory with a couple of bottles of champagne, and a cocktail of pills. Someone walking their dog found me the next morning, passed out and face down in the water."

She feels her chest tighten with sorrow for him and she tries to turn around, wrap her arms around him, but he stops her.

"No, don't."

Instead, he reaches for her hand and she links her fingers through his, squeezing gently.

"Apparently it was touch and go for a while. The doctors weren't sure if I would wake up. When I did, the person who found me was there, sitting by my bed." Logan sighs. "He's the one who finally got through to me. He told me to man up, stop moping and sort my fucking life out before I really did kill myself."

Veronica is surprised. She does turn around this time, tugging his hand away and shifting so she can kneel in front of him.

"And you listened? To a random stranger who found you on a beach?"

He watches her warily, his expression haunted and fearful.

"It wasn't a stranger." He shakes his head. "It was your father."

"My dad?" She's shocked. "How…? I mean, he never even said… "

"I asked him not to. We, uh, we came to an understanding," he admits. "He would make sure that it was kept out of the tabloids, that I would get some privacy, if I agreed to go to rehab and get my shit together."

"Oh my God," she breathes, reaching for his hands. "Logan, I'm so sorry."

He shrugs, looking away. "What for? Wasn't your fault I was a screw-up."

"If I hadn't left…"

"No, Veronica." He looks back up at her again, eyes pleading. "I'd been fucked up for years before that… since before I ever met you. If you'd stayed I would have just ended up dragging you down with me."

"But, still…"

"Listen, I went to rehab and I got clean. It wasn't easy and there were times where I didn't think I would make it, but I did it. I got the help I needed, I finally dealt with everything, and I straightened my life out."

"The therapy," she realises. "It wasn't part of the navy requirements, it was part of your rehab."

"Yeah," he admits. "I mean, it was also a service recommendation, because of the serving in war zones and PTSD stuff, but that wasn't why I went in the first place. Without it, I never would have been able to get in anyway."

"So, joining the navy, how does that fit in?" she asks, moving to sit beside him when she realises her legs are losing circulation from kneeling in front of him. He doesn't speak for a minute, but instead reaches for the pants she'd brought out for him, the ones he shrugged out of last night, and pulls out a small, shiny object.

"Did I ever show you this?" He asks, holding it out to her. She takes it, puzzled. It's a small, metal lighter, though she's not sure what significance it's supposed to hold. "Turn it over."

She does, then runs her finger over the words engraved on the other side: _Free at Last_. She glances at him in question.

"It was my grandfather's. He fought in the Korean War, in the navy. He got this lighter in Seoul, had it engraved after he escaped capture." His eyes are fixed on it, still in her hand. "He was the only member of the family who actually did anything good with his life. My mom always kept it in her purse; she never went anywhere without it—but the day she died, she left it on her dresser, like it was a message or something."

Realisation dawns as she reads the words again, _Free at Last_. "That's why you were convinced she wasn't dead."

"Yeah." He nodded. "I thought it was a sign."

"I'm sorry that it wasn't."

"Me too." He lets out a heavy exhale, propping his forearms on his knees, feet flat in the sand. "Though I guess it was a message after all—she was finally free, just not in the way I'd hoped."

"Yeah…" Veronica reaches out, rubs his arm comfortingly.

"It was my therapist who suggested it; she thought the military would be good for me, that it might give me the stability and direction I needed. Said she knew someone who might be able to pull some strings." He lets out a humourless chuckle. "I thought she was crazy at first, told her exactly what I though of that suggestion—you can imagine the colourful language." He waves his hand in the air for emphasis. "But she handed me some pamphlets, said I should think about it. Next thing I know, I'm standing in front of the Navy Recruitment office, the lighter burning a hole in my pocket—not literally—" He gives her a small smile. "And I just…I found myself going inside."

She smiles, reaches over and takes his hand, then lifts it to her lips and kisses his knuckles.

"Turns out it was a bit more complicated than just going in and signing up," he explains. "To be an officer—specifically, to become a pilot—you need a bachelors degree, so I re-enrolled at Hearst, knuckled down—even went to summer school—and got my degree. Then I used my therapist's contact, got into OCS after graduation."

"OCS?" Veronica's quickly realising she really doesn't know as much about the navy as she thought she did.

"Officer Candidate School."

"Oh."

"It wasn't what I thought I'd end up doing at all, but it turns out my therapist was right; the military was exactly what I needed," he says seriously. "It straightened me out, gave me purpose and discipline, and it's so fucking rewarding, you know?" He looks out at the ocean. "I'm serving my country, fighting the bad guys. My life is finally _worth_ something."

Veronica shifts, moving in front of him again. He lowers his legs and she straddles his hips, cupping his face in her hands and touching her lips to his in a soft, gentle kiss.

"Your life was always worth something, Logan. Always." She strokes her fingers along his temple, down over his cheeks, brushing across his lips. "I'm so proud of you, of what you've achieved, of who you've become."

He pulls back, eyes boring into hers, and she can see unshed tears collecting in them. His hand comes up to her jaw, cups her neck as he pulls her close, capturing her lips with his, kissing her deeply.

"Thank you," he murmurs, so softly that she only just catches it.

 _I love you._ The words are on the tip of her tongue, but she can't make herself say them out loud. It seems too soon, they've only been back in each other's lives for a few days, and she's not entirely sure they aren't just a gut reaction to his confession.

"Come on." She climbs off him, standing up and offering her hand. "Let's go back inside."

* * *

Logan leaves the board out on the deck, strips out of the wetsuit, and there's an almost eerie sense of calm as Veronica takes his hand and leads him into the beach house. He follows behind her without a word, feeling like if he speaks, it will somehow break this strange, tranquil spell between them. It's like their conversation on the beach has broken some invisible barrier and it's left him feeling vulnerable and exposed.

She leads him into the makeshift bedroom, tugging the curtain closed behind them, turning to him in silence and pulling her tank top over her head. He can only watch as she shimmies out of the shorts too, and stands before him in a barely-there bikini. His eyes roam over her body unapologetically, watching intently as she reaches behind her back and unties the top, letting it fall to the floor. She steps forward, reaching for his hand and placing it over her bare breast. He frowns questioningly, his thumb brushing over her dark nipple, but she just shakes her head and takes his other hand, brings it to her other breast.

"Touch me?"

He nods dumbly, then swallows, unable to find the words to speak. She rocks up onto her tiptoes and kisses him. He slides his hands over her skin, tracing down her sides, over her stomach, easing the bikini bottoms down over her hips. She steps out of them and he kneels before her, hands on her hips. He drops a tender kiss to her stomach, just below her belly button, then slides a hand down over the back of her thigh and lifts her leg, draping it over his shoulder.

"Logan…"

His name falls from her lips in a breathy sigh and he feels her hands bury in his short hair, fingernails raking across his scalp as he leans in, trails his mouth lower, barely a brush of skin against skin, until he reaches her sensitive clit. She inhales sharply, hips rocking forward in response, and he smiles, darting out his tongue to taste her. She moans, fingers tightening in his hair as he kisses and suckles at her warm flesh. He feels her knees begin to buckle and is quick to slide his hands up to her back, supporting her weight and easing her down onto the bed. He lifts his head, taking a moment to take in the sight of her, naked and open for him.

"V'ronica…" Her name falls from his lips in reverence.

It's serene, almost too quiet. His hands and mouth and tongue sweep over her skin, memorising every line and curve of her body. She's different now, yet somehow still the same. She has curves she didn't have before, but they only make her sexier than ever; her breasts are larger too, round and full and sensitive like they never were before. She's an adult now, no longer the headstrong teenager he fell in love with, but a grown-up, sensual woman.

He lifts his eyes to her face; she's watching him, eyes hooded, skin flushed, bottom lip caught between her teeth, and he feels a familiar tightness, both in his chest and lower still, at her expression. His lips curl up in a slow, luxurious smile, an eyebrow quirking mischievously as he lowers his mouth to her again, flicking his tongue over her clit gently.

She's incredible; her scent surrounds him as he licks teasingly at her sensitive flesh, drawing gasps and moans from her lips. He loves making her feel this way, making her gasp his name in pleasure, he always has. He slips one finger inside her, finding her wet and willing and ready, then another, stroking gently as he flattens his tongue and licks a slow path right up to her clit.

"Oh, God, Logan!" She breaks the silence with a breathy gasp and her fingers tighten in his hair, her back arching up off the bed.

 _Fuck, she's so gorgeous._

He keeps going, until she's writhing and bucking beneath him, until she's crying out with pleasure, orgasm rocking through her. It's never been like this with anyone else, he realises, as she clutches at his hair, back arched. It's never felt like this with anyone else.

Gently easing his fingers from her, he catches her eye again, makes a show of licking them clean, then grins wickedly as he crawls back up to her. She's breathing heavily, but doesn't speak. He moves to kiss her, but she shoves at his shoulder, pushing him down onto his back, her legs falling either side of his hips.

Her hair falls across his shoulder as she lowers her mouth to his collarbone, the strands brushing teasingly over his skin when she kisses her way down over his chest. Her hands roam across his upper body, fingers tracing small patterns as they go. He can feel her pressing intimately against his abdomen where she's straddling him and his stomach muscles clench in response, heat shooting to his groin. His hands come up to rest on her hips, his thumbs gently massaging her skin as she kisses her way down over his torso, tongue darting out to flick over his nipples on the way to his stomach.

When she reaches his shorts, she looks up at him with a warm, loving smile, before easing them over his hips, releasing him from their confines. He can only watch with hooded eyes as she settles between his legs and reaches for him, her small hand closing around his length, stroking slowly. Her eyes don't leave his even as her tongue traces the tip and his hips lift involuntarily in response. Then her mouth surrounds him, tongue sliding down, sending thrills of pleasure shooting up his spine.

She's applying just the right amount of pressure, in exactly the way he loves, just as he showed her all those years ago, and he struggles to maintain coherent thought, his hands sliding into her hair. It's even better now than it ever was before, she's more confident, more forceful, and it's driving him crazy. He's just trying not to think of why that might be, about how much more experience she might have gained since then.

All too soon, he feels the familiar tightness in his belly and reaches down, wraps his fingers around her wrist, silently urging her to stop. She raises an eyebrow questioningly, letting him know that she's happy to finish if he wants her to, but truth is, he wants to be inside her when he comes.

He shakes his head, then grabs a condom from the small table beside the bed. She takes it from him, tears it open and slides it onto him before crawling back and straddling his waist again. He swallows heavily, watching her sink down onto him, engulfing him in her wet heat, and his head falls back against the pillow, eyes closing at the sensation. He doesn't think he'll ever get enough of this.

She braces her hands on his chest as she begins to move, and he guides her, his hands on her hips, fingers digging into the flesh there.

"Logan," she whispers. "Look at me."

He forces his eyes open, locks his gaze on hers, as they move together. It's both intense and calming at the same time, but it's not enough, he realises; he needs to hold her close, needs to wrap his arms around her. He releases his grip on her hips and pushes himself up so he's sitting, so they are chest-to-chest, mouth-to-mouth, grinning when she gasps at the change in position.

"Veronica…" he murmurs fervently against her lips.

Her arms wrap tightly around his neck and she uses him for support, her inner muscles clenching around him as she moves. He can hear his breathing becoming harsh as she increases the pace, clings to him, pressing her mouth to his in urgent, breathy kisses.

"Need you." She mutters, barely coherently. "So much."

"Me too." It comes out almost a whisper. "God… V'ronica."

When she tightens around him, her head falling back in pleasure, all he can do is wrap himself around her and hold her tight, letting her fall apart in his arms. He doesn't wait for her to come down, doesn't think he can hold out long enough. He twists, lowering her to the bed, rolls her so she's beneath him. She gasps again, arms tight around his neck, legs clinging to his waist, as he rocks into her hastily.

He comes with a groan, her name spilling from his lips as he drops his head to her shoulder, nuzzling her neck, inhaling her scent: shampoo, and salt water, and Veronica. _This is where I belong, right here, with her._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Logan concentrates on the pounding of his feet against the concrete, the deep steady breaths he's taking, the feel of sweat beading on his forehead and slowly meandering down over his temple. It's a beautiful Wednesday morning, the sun only just beginning to rise, casting an orangey-red glow over the ocean, and the temperature is still cool enough that he can run comfortably.

He loves this feeling, pushing his body like this, feeling his muscles working, the adrenaline pumping. Running has become a staple in his life now, ever since basic training. Before that, he hadn't been particularly bothered to exercise; sure, he surfed when he could, and back in high school, he would occasionally make use of the gym in his parents' house—until it burned down, of course—and after, he would sometimes visit the gym in the Neptune Grand, but physical fitness hadn't been a priority by any means.

Of course, all that changed when he joined the navy. Actually, it changed before he joined. To even get in, he had to meet the navy's physical fitness standards. The first couple of days of OCS, he was weighed, measured and had to run the Physical Fitness Assessment; if you failed it, you were held at Officer Training Command for another three weeks for further fitness training; if you failed a second time, you were out. Logan was told all of this before he joined up, and he did make an effort to improve his fitness before OCS started, but he still failed the first time, though thankfully those extra three weeks did their job and he passed on the second attempt.

The 12 weeks of OCS training were the most intense and most difficult of his life. Almost every day of those three months, especially in the first few weeks, he wondered if he was even cut out for the navy at all, if he should just cut his losses and quit, but then he remembered his grandfather and his lighter, his mother, even Keith Mars—the man who'd saved his life—and he pushed through. After all, what was even left for him if he quit?

It was during OCS that he discovered his love for running, for the feeling of the wind rushing past his ears as his feet pounded beneath him, for the freedom it offered. When he was running, he could clear his mind, let his thoughts blank out, and just concentrate on the movement of his body. That love, that freedom, along with the need and desire to keep himself on the straight and narrow, is why he keeps going, every day he can; even when it would be so easy, so tempting just to stay in bed with the gorgeous, naked blonde tangled in his sheets. He can't let himself get lazy, can't let himself fall behind, because if he does, who knows how easy it would be to slip back into his old ways again. And he can't let that happen, especially not now that he's in a good place, not now he's found her again.

He reaches the end of the beach that marks his normal three-mile halfway point and turns, heading back towards the beach house. When he gets back, the sun has fully risen, but Veronica is still fast asleep. His lips curl up in contentment as he watches her from beside the curtain for a moment. She's curled on her side, her hair a messy tangle, and she's hugging his pillow to her chest, nose buried in it. She looks relaxed, younger than her years, her features free of worry or stress.

As he studies her, he realises she's barely even spoken about herself these last few days, not since that first night she spent here after the showdown with Cobb. Sure, she apologised for leaving back then, and admitted she's had therapy, but other than that, he doesn't really know anything about her life now. Pretty much all the focus has been on him lately: the murder charges, Carrie, his fall from grace, how he joined the navy. She knows a lot about him, yet he doesn't really have a clue what she's been up to the last few years. Yes, he knows the basics: psychology degree from Stanford, then Columbia law, and more recently, a job offer with that New York law firm, but that's it. He doesn't know _why_ she chose those things for herself, or what she actually wants out of life now.

He's dying to wake her, to ask her about them, but she looks so peaceful, and lord knows she needs the rest, so he doesn't. Instead, he pulls off his sweat-soaked shirt, moves out into the living room, and begins a routine of sit-ups and push-ups. He's almost up to fifty sit-ups when he hears a noise to his right and turns his head to see Veronica leaning against the wall, draped in one of his shirts, arms crossed over her chest as she smiles sleepily at him.

"What a sight to wake up to."

He grins, finishing his fiftieth sit-up before collapsing back on the floor to catch his breath. His hand rests on his stomach for a moment, before he pushes himself up and gets to his feet, walking over to her.

"Morning." He leans down to drop a brief kiss to her lips.

"It's a very good morning." She nods and he doesn't miss the way her eyes move slowly over his body as she lowers her lashes.

"I, uh, should go take a shower." He knows he's gross and sweaty, can feel his hair sticking to his scalp, the sweat dripping down his back. "You wanna join me?"

She looks tempted, but her lips twist up apologetically and she shakes her head.

"Would love to, but I want to get to the hospital early this morning, and I need to stop by the store on my way," she explains, a coy smile appearing on her face. "I have a feeling if we shower together, I'm not going to be leaving the house any time soon."

"Okay." He nods, feeling oddly disappointed, though he has no rational reason to be.

She should be spending time with her father while he's still in the hospital, and he can't expect her to be at his beck and call twenty-four seven. She's always been independent, has always done her own thing, and it's something he's always admired about her, even when it irritates the shit out of him.

"I guess you have a point," he concedes.

She smiles, pushing away from the wall and placing her hand briefly on his shoulder, before starting to move past him. "You go shower and I'll get some coffee on, maybe rustle up some breakfast."

He showers quickly and when he steps out into the hallway, towel around his waist, he's greeted by the tantalising aroma of freshly-brewed coffee and sizzling bacon.

"Smells amazing."

He steps up behind Veronica at the kitchen counter, nuzzling the back of her neck with his nose as he slides one arm briefly around her waist. Before she has a chance to answer (and before he drops the towel and pushes her up against the counter), he sucks in a resolved breath and retreats to the bedroom to get dressed. When he returns to the kitchen, Veronica has disappeared and he can hear the shower running, though she's left a mug of coffee and a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs on the counter for him. He smiles softly, reaching for a fork, and digs in as he scans the headlines of the morning paper.

It's another fifteen minutes before Veronica joins him again, freshly showered and dressed. As he watches her dig through her purse for something, he's tempted to ask her about her life at Stanford, in New York, about why she made the choices she did, but then she's grabbing her jacket, rising up to kiss him goodbye, a quick peck on the lips. It's not a good time. It can wait.

"Hey," he says, before she can leave. She turns to him in question. "You wanna do something tonight?"

"Depends," she replies thoughtfully. "What kind of something?"

He grins. "I was thinking maybe dinner and a movie?"

"Yeah, okay." Her eyes soften and her smile widens. "I'd like that."

"Great." He steps in front of her, sliding his hands around her waist and pulling her close. "You know, I don't think I got a proper goodbye kiss just now."

"You didn't, huh?" She's looking at him, wide-eyed and teasing.

"Nope." He shakes his head slowly, as he lowers his mouth to hers. Just before their lips meet, he adds. "It should have been something more like this."

He captures her lips with his, bringing her into in a slow, languid kiss that leaves them both gasping for air when they part.

"I'll see you later," he murmurs softly.

"Yeah, later." Her voice is breathy and he can detect a slight tremble in her tone, which makes him grin proudly. He loves that he can invoke this kind of reaction in her.

She extracts herself from his arms and moves to the door, blowing a cheeky kiss in his direction as she leaves. Logan sighs, eyes on her retreating form through the window as she climbs into his car and pulls out of the driveway.

He glances at his crotch. "Down, boy."

* * *

"Hey, Dad."

Keith offers Veronica a tired-looking smile as she steps into his hospital room.

She holds up a paper bag. "I brought treats."

"Hi, sweetie," he says, tilting his face up towards her as she walks over and kisses his forehead, running her hand over his cheek.

"How are you doing?" she asks, placing the bag on the bedside table, then pulling up a chair and taking a seat next to the bed.

"Never better," he deadpans. "Doctor says I'll be scoring home runs left, right and centre in no time."

Veronica just shoots him a smile and a disbelieving look. "Since when have you ever scored home runs left, right and centre?"

Keith lifts a hand to his heart. "You wound me, loving daughter."

Veronica just smiles at him. "It's nice to see you back to your usual humorous self."

 _It's certainly better than seeing you pale and unconscious and vulnerable in that bed._

Keith shrugs. "Well, I have to do something. Staring at the stark white walls in this place gets old after a while."

"You're okay, though?" She can't help feeling worried.

He nods. "I'm getting better, Veronica. You know it's going to take a long time, but I'm here, I'm alive. I'm okay."

She rests her hand on his arm, squeezing gently, before reaching into her bag and pulling out a newspaper, opened to the crossword pages, and reaching for a pencil.

"Okay, so what's it going to be today? Cryptic or plain old regular?" She lowers her eyes to the paper, skimming over the first clue, pencil poised.

"Veronica." Her dad's tone is serious and she looks up questioningly. "As much as I love that you're here and that you're spending time with me… shouldn't you be getting back to New York?"

"Dad." She tries to hide the guilty look, but from his expression, she can tell she's not successful. "I'm not going back. I'm staying in Neptune."

He closes his eyes. "Veronica… sweetheart… I'm not going to let you ruin your promising, big-city career because of me."

"Dad…" She shakes her head. "There's no more job, remember?"

"There'll be others," he insists. "And what about Stosh? Your apartment? Your whole life is in New York."

"We broke up, you know that," she says slowly.

"Doesn't mean you can't work things out." He sounds frustrated. "Stosh is a nice guy, he's good for you. I don't see why you would throw that away. I mean, what could Neptune possibly offer you that's better than—?"

Veronica cringes when he breaks off and fixes her with a suspicious look, brows furrowed.

"Oh, no… no, Veronica." He shakes his head. "Please don't tell me you and Logan are—?"

This conversation is becoming dangerously similar to the one she had with Wallace the other day, and it worries her. Is everyone except Mac going to have a problem with Logan?

"Dad, come on." Her response is too quick, her protest too vehement, and she knows he can see right through her.

"Veronica." And there it is, that disapproving tone, the accompanying disappointed sigh.

"Dad, please. It's not… Logan's changed, he really has. He's not the volatile, messed-up kid he was back then."

"So, he wasn't just accused of murdering his ex-girlfriend? He isn't starting fights at high school reunions?" Keith's tone is almost flippant, but not quite.

"It wasn't like that." She sighs. "You know he didn't kill Carrie. The whole world knows he didn't. And he had good reason for what he did at the reunion."

 _Yeah, that fucking sex tape. Again._

"I just don't want to see you get hurt again, Veronica," he says seriously. "And Logan Echolls has always been the one boy who seems to be able to hurt you."

"And I've hurt him too, Dad," she counters. "He wasn't the only guilty party. But we're adults now, we've both grown up and got our shit together and we can make our own decisions." She gives him a stern look. "And don't forget, he saved your life last week. If he hadn't been there, hadn't gotten you out of that car, you would be dead."

"I know." He takes that in, then gives a relenting sigh and she knows she's won this round. "Okay, fine. You have a point. But just be aware that I own a handgun and the minute he steps out of line, I won't hesitate to use it."

Veronica just rolls her eyes. It's an empty threat and they both know it. She humours him anyway though.

"I got it, Dad," she says. They share a look of understanding, before she turns back to the crossword. "So, ready to solve this bad boy?"

They work on the clues for a while, some of the easy banter returning as Keith snags the paper and tries to puzzle one out for himself, until Veronica says, "He told me, you know, about what you did for him."

"What?" Keith is clearly distracted.

"Logan," she clarifies. "He told me what happened on Lilly's anniversary, at the beach… about how found him, how you helped him."

"Oh." He's not looking at her, eyes fixed on the crossword.

"He said that if it wasn't for you, he probably wouldn't be here right now." He still won't look at her. "Dad, you obviously thought he was worth saving back then; you obviously cared about him enough to help him get his life together, to become a better man… so I don't understand why you're so against him being in my life again now."

He doesn't speak for a long moment. When he looks up, his expression is filled with concern.

"Sweetheart, it's not that I think he's a bad guy; I've seen how he's turned his life around. It's just that you… both of you… are in good places in your lives now. You're a lawyer—" At her look, he amends, "Okay, you're _almost_ a lawyer—you live in New York, you have a nice apartment, a boyfriend… your life is stable, normal. That's all I've ever wanted for you."

"I know that, Dad." She squeezes his hand gratefully. _He's only ever tried to look out for me; he's only wanted the best for me._

"And Logan—yes, he's straightened his life out and well, I think he surprised all of us when he joined the navy, but it seems to have been good for him—recent minor altercations excepted." He sighs heavily. "I just don't want the two of you to end up ruining all of that; you've seen what this town does to people, and I don't want you falling back into those old patterns again, I don't want Neptune to destroy you like it has so many others."

"I won't let it, I promise," she assures him. _Don't worry, Dad. I can't let that happen. I won't._ "Look, I understand what you're saying and I know you think I'm crazy for giving up on New York, but being back here these last couple of weeks, it's made me realise how much I've been lying to myself all these years."

"What do you mean?"

"I told myself that I was doing the right thing by leaving Neptune," she says. "I'd always wanted Stanford, and finally I had the chance to go there, get the education I always dreamed of. But the truth was, I wasn't happy, not really. I told myself it was what I wanted, I did my best to enjoy it, but deep down I think I knew it wasn't right for me." She looks around the room, trying to gather her thoughts into something more coherent. "It was the same in New York, too. I convinced myself that law school was what I wanted, and I spent so much time studying that I managed to hide from the truth, instead convincing myself that it was the right choice."

"Honey—"

"But you know what?" she adds quickly. "The minute I stepped off that plane in San Diego, the minute I saw Logan again, I realised I'd been lying to myself the whole time. Being home… it was like I could finally breathe again, it felt like I really belonged somewhere for the first time in years." She shrugs, looking at him seriously. "You know what I felt when Piz broke up with me, and when you told me the Truman-Mann job was gone? I was relieved." She chuckles humourlessly. "Tell me, is that the reaction of someone who is giving up on their dreams? I think not."

Silence falls between them when she finishes her mini-tirade. Keith looks troubled, uneasy, like he's not sure what he should say.

"Veronica." He sounds tired when he finally speaks. "I see what you're saying, okay? But I'm your father; I just want you to be happy. That's all I've ever wanted."

She leans forward, takes his hand. "I am happy, Dad. I want to stay here in Neptune. Not just for you, or because of Logan, but because it's where I'm supposed to be. I didn't realise until these last couple of weeks how much I missed it here, how much I missed working cases, how much this PI stuff is in my blood. This is something I need to do, for me."

He studies her intently for a moment, before nodding reluctantly. "Okay."

 _Thank God._ She gives a sigh of relief when she sees him relax, when he admits defeat.

"Thank you." She stands up, presses a kiss to his cheek. "And before you get too judgemental about Logan's part in all this and start blaming him for keeping me here, you should know that he's leaving next week."

"Leaving?" That seems to surprise him.

She nods. "Deployment. He'll be gone six months."

Keith stills. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"And, uh, how do you feel about that?"

She shrugs, trying to ignore the tightness in her chest, the lump that's starting to form in her throat, at the thought of him leaving. "There's not really much I can feel about it. It's happening. There's nothing I can do about it. I'll deal… we'll deal."

"Come here, sweetie."

He must see that she's struggling not to let her emotions show because he holds his arms out to her and she leans across, curls against his side, careful not to put pressure on his broken ribs. She feels his lips brush against the top of her head and she smiles gratefully.

"I'm glad you're home, Veronica."

"Me too, Dad."

"And, uh…" He seems hesitant and she looks up to see a somewhat reluctant look on his face. "Tell Logan thank you, for getting me out of that car."

* * *

"So, are we going with 'ultra-cheesy, so sickly-sweet it makes you wanna barf' rom-com or 'I have to prove my masculinity by blowing everything up' action movie?" asks Logan as he pulls up in front of the movie theatre that evening.

"Is there an option for neither?"

Logan shrugs, lips curling up in into a smirk in an attempt to be flippant with his next remark, "Well, we could go for my preferred choice, but it's in French and we'd have to actually read the subtitles instead of making out."

"Ah," Veronica nods in amusement. "Rom-com it is then. I know how much you love them."

"Sure, _sweetie-pie_ ," he replies, trying—and failing—to keep the sarcasm out of his tone. _She couldn't have picked the action movie?_ "Whatever you want."

Veronica just rolls her eyes at him and gets out of the car. His gaze follows as she steps onto the sidewalk, stomach giving a small flip as he takes in the sight of her. She looks gorgeous tonight, dressed in a flowing, red dress that hugs her torso and flares out at her waist, and red heels. Her hair is down, falling over her shoulders in waves, the wind catching it every now and then, and she's wearing make-up. Veronica doesn't often get dressed up like this—at least the Veronica he used to know didn't, he has no idea if the Veronica of 2016 is the same—but when she does, she looks stunning.

She looks over at him, crossing her arms. "You coming?"

"Sure."

She slips her hand in his as he joins her and they head inside the cinema. The lines are long, so Veronica nudges him, nodding toward the concession stand.

"I'll get the tickets; you grab the popcorn, okay?"

"Sure," he agrees with a nod, before reaching into his back pocket for his wallet and slipping out a couple of twenties. "Here."

She just eyes them and shakes her head. "Nuh uh, I'm buying." She holds her finger up in warning. "No arguments."

She walks over to the ticket line before he can protest and he rolls his eyes _. Typical Veronica, headstrong and independent as always._ As he joins the refreshment line, he finds his gaze drawn to a large movie poster advertising Le Jour Se Lève—he smiles at the familiar lettering and black-and-white photography.

"Sir? What can I get you?"

The cashier waves his hand in front of his face and Logan realises he's next in line. He orders a tub of popcorn and two drinks, picking them up and turning around just as Veronica heads over to him with the tickets.

"Can you look after these for a minute?" She props the tickets between the cups on the small drinks tray he's holding. "I'm going to the bathroom."

She whirls around and is gone before he even gets a chance to reply, leaving him standing bewildered in the middle of the theatre lobby.

"Okay, then."

He glances down at the tickets, frowning when he sees that they aren't for the rom-com after all… they're for the next showing of Le Jour Se Lève. He looks up in the direction she's disappeared in, feeling strangely touched.

"You okay?" she asks when she reappears a couple of minutes later.

"You bought tickets for the black and white French film?"

She shrugs, looking vaguely embarrassed. "Yeah, well, I saw you looking at the poster, you seemed… wistful. Couldn't take your eyes off it."

"Yeah." He looks back over at the poster again. "It was one of my mom's favourite films. I watch it sometimes; it reminds me of her."

She gives him a smile, though he can see the sadness, the sympathy in her eyes.

"Thank you." He lowers his head, gives her a soft kiss.

"Should we go in?" She takes the popcorn from him, then slips her hand in his, leading him into the movie screen.

Logan doesn't really pay a whole lot of attention to the movie, but that's okay with him, he's seen it many times. He's just a little preoccupied with Veronica curled up against his side. His arm is around her, having pushed up the armrest so there's no barrier between them, and her head rests on his shoulder. She keeps tracing small, sensual circles on his thigh with her salted popcorn fingers and it sends thrills through him. Every now and then, he leans down to recite the French lines in her ear, barely more than a whisper, and each time, he can't help but grin when she shivers slightly in response.

He's not quite sure how to describe the way he's feeling right now; it's like the evening is a mixture of how they used to be and how they are now. There's something different between them now, something that wasn't there when they were teenagers. Maturity, perhaps… he doesn't really know. What he does know is that he likes it.

When the movie ends, he drives them over to a new Italian place that opened up on the outskirts of Neptune only a few months earlier. He hasn't tried it yet and from Veronica's reaction when he suggested it instead of her trusted Mama Leone's, she hasn't either.

"So," she starts, when they've been shown to their seats at the back of the small restaurant and she's picked up a menu.

When she doesn't continue, he asks, "So…?"

"I enjoyed the movie," she says. "It was good."

"Yeah, I saw that tear you tried to wipe away at the end without me noticing," he teases.

Veronica puts down the menu and holds her hands up in mock-surrender. "Whatever you thought you saw… you didn't."

"Yeah, okay."

"I didn't know you spoke French?" It comes out as a question, though he realises it probably wasn't.

"Yeah, well…" He shrugs. "Mom did and she always said she wanted me to learn too. I didn't really care to at first, but we spent a summer in Paris before we moved to Neptune and I kind of found the incentive to learn some."

Veronica gives a soft laugh. "Yeah, and I bet I know what that incentive was."

He grins. "Totally hot teenage daughter of the lead actress in my dad's movie. She was way too old for me, but it didn't stop me from trying."

"Of course." She rests her elbows on the table, leaning forward, a glint in her eye. "I'm glad you did though. You whispering to me in French like that? Now _that's_ totally hot."

 _Ho-ly shit, Veronica. Don't look at me like that when we're in public._

"Really?" He swallows, shifting uncomfortably in his seat and looking down at his menu in an attempt to calm himself down. "I'll have to remember that."

"Can I get you anything to drink, sir, madam?" The waiter appears beside their table, thankfully interrupting what could have been an embarrassing situation.

"Yes, I'll have a large glass of Chardonnay, please," says Veronica with a smile. "Logan? Any wine for you? Or beer?"

He blinks, surprised for a moment that she's asking him, before realising she doesn't actually know yet. "Oh, uh, none for me, thanks. I'll just have a soda and lime."

"You're not having a drink?" Veronica asks when the waiter leaves.

"Well, I'm driving," he says quickly, an instinctive answer. He considers her for a moment, then decides, what the hell, he might as well be totally honest. "Actually, I, uh, don't drink anymore."

"Really?" She sits back, clearly surprised. "Doesn't seem like you."

"Maybe not before, but…" He reaches down, slides out his wallet and pulls something from it, holding it up to show her. "Seven years sober."

"Seriously?" Her eyes widen almost comically, though her tone is one of admiration.

He turns the chip over in his hand, sliding it between his fingers nervously. "Yep. It hasn't been an easy road, but it's one I've managed to stick to."

"That's so great." She smiles, and he's shocked to see her eyes are glistening, She reaches out, covers his hand with hers. "I'm proud of you, Logan."

It's the second time she's said that to him in as many days, and he's still finding it difficult to believe the words.

"Thanks." He shifts uncomfortably.

She seems to realise something then. "This isn't going to be a problem, is it… me ordering wine?"

He shakes his head. "No. It's fine. I'm used to it." At her quizzical look, he elaborates, "I spend most of my time with naval officers and Dick Casablancas… couldn't avoid it even if I tried."

"Good point." She gives his hand one last squeeze, before drawing back and returning her attention to the menu. "So, any idea what's good here?"

They order food and as they eat, they slip into companionable silence, only punctuated by occasional casual small talk. Logan is just finishing his pasta when Veronica speaks.

"So, I told my dad today." She sounds hesitant. "That I'm not going back to New York."

Logan winces. "I'm sure that went well."

"Yeah." She gives a roll of her eyes. "Pretty much as well as I expected it to. He's not too happy about it."

"Can't imagine why not," he mutters under his breath.

She sighs, fiddling with her napkin. "He's worried that I'm giving up my chance for greatness in New York. That Neptune's going to bring me down like it does everyone else."

Truth be told, he's a little worried about that too.

"He just wants what's best for you," he says, voicing his own concerns along with Keith's.

"I know." She nods, looking slightly pained. "But what he thinks is best for me and what _I_ think is best for me aren't necessarily the same thing."

Logan smiles gently, taking her hand. "He doesn't want you to give up everything you've worked so hard for, everything you've wanted for the last few years."

"But that's the thing: I don't think I do want that life." She sighs, looking down at the table. "I told myself I did, but truthfully, my heart hasn't been in it for a long time. I stuck with it because I kept telling myself it was what I wanted, that I needed to reinvent myself, get away from everything Neptune-related, but really, I was just running away from who I really am."

Logan feels torn, on the one hand, he's so glad she's staying, that she's choosing Neptune, but on the other… he doesn't want her to regret this decision either. He doesn't want her to wake up one day and realise she's not happy, not satisfied with her life choices. He's about to say so, when she speaks up.

"Hey, uh, my dad says thank you, by the way."

He frowns. "What for?"

"For saving his life last week."

"Oh." He's taken aback. With everything else, he'd almost forgotten the enormity of what happened. He feels almost shy as he fumbles to reply. "Uh, that's okay, it was…you know, I just did what anyone else would have."

She's looking at him with mirth in her eyes. "Really? Anyone else would have put themselves in danger to pull their estranged ex-girlfriend's father from a car?"

"Veronica…" He's not sure how to take that.

"Just admit it, Logan," she says airily. "It was all an elaborate ploy to get in my pants."

"God, Veronica," he protests quickly, a little surprised she would even entertain the idea. "It was… it was instinct, I guess. We're taught to react quickly in dangerous situations and I just… reacted."

"I know you did." She smiles tenderly, all signs of teasing gone. "I just want you to know that you did something pretty heroic that night."

He shifts uncomfortably, letting his gaze roam around the room. "I'm no hero, Veronica."

He feels her hand slide into his again and he forces himself to look back at her. "Yes, you are."

* * *

"So, what are you thinking?" asks Logan teasingly, glancing down at her contemplative expression as they walk along the deserted beach together.

His arm is around her shoulder, wrist resting against her warm collarbone, and her fingers are entwined with his. Her shoes dangle from her other hand, bumping against his thigh every now and then as they walk. The night air is warm for January and the water is surprisingly calm. He tightens his arm around her and waits for the witty, sarcastic response, but she just sighs lightly.

"Nothing."

"Really?" He grins. "Fast-thinking, quip-ready Veronica Mars is thinking about absolutely nothing at all? Someone alert the media."

She playfully checks him with her shoulder. "Okay, fine. I was thinking that this might actually be the first proper, real date we've had."

 _Huh? We've been on plenty of real dates._ "What do you mean? We've dated."

"I mean, it's the first time I think we've ever just relaxed and enjoyed ourselves with no interruptions, no exes, no drama, no dangerous situations." She smiles. "It's just you, me, dinner and a movie, and a romantic walk on the beach."

"Hmm." She has a point. "In that case, I vote for a lot more of these kinds of dates."

"Me too."

They walk together in silence for a couple of minutes, before Veronica laughs softly and he looks down at her in surprise.

"What?"

"Remember Homecoming sophomore year? You, me, Lilly and Duncan?"

He tenses, unsure where this is going. Of course he remembers that night; it was the last time the four of them were happy together, before everything went to shit.

"I remember."

"We played 'I've never' right here on this beach."

"Yeah, we did." He closes his eyes against the memory.

"The next year," she starts, looking wistful. "Junior year, we were on our way to the dance and I made the driver stop the limo right over there." She points across the sand and he frowns, wondering where she's going with this. "I was in this red, strapless dress… which was completely not me, but I had been thinking about Lilly a lot and…"

She stops speaking for a moment, seemingly lost in her memories.

"…When we were picking out our dresses the year before, she told me I was 'suppressing my hotness', that I wasn't a yellow cotton dress, but red, strapless satin."

Logan's confused. "You wore pink that night."

"I did." She nods. "I wasn't ready for red satin yet. But junior year… I wanted to remember her and I wanted to feel alive again, so I bought this amazing red dress and I tried to live the night like she would have wanted. On the way, I got the driver to stop right here, and I went skinny dipping."

Logan's eyes widen and he finds himself sputtering. "You did what?!"

She looks up at him and grins mischievously. "I walked right down to the water over there, I stripped and I went skinny dipping."

"Veronica Mars." He's impressed, tugs her in close and kisses the top of her head. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"It was… cathartic, I guess," she admits. "But also kind of risky too. I was embracing my bad self."

"Wow, I wish I could have seen that." He gives a chuckle. "You know, I probably would have joined you."

She buries her face in his shoulder, embarrassed. "Oh God, no—I would have died if anyone else saw me."

Logan looks out over the calm water, then up and down the beach, an idea forming in his mind. "You know, there's no one here now…"

Veronica lifts her head, looking up at him in confusion. Her expression quickly changes to one of horror. "Logan Echolls, please tell me you're not thinking what I think you are."

"I will if you will." He extracts his hand from hers, and takes a step away from her, fingers coming up to the buttons on his shirt.

"No, Logan." She shakes her head vigorously. "We can't."

He flashes her a grin, making quick work of the buttons and tugging off his shirt. "Chicken?"

"No, it's just…" She glances around nervously.

"Come on, you know you want to," he teases, toeing off his shoes and socks.

She watches him dubiously for a moment, eyes flicking down to where he's reaching for his belt, before she sighs with resignation.

"Okay, fine." She holds up a finger in warning. "But we tell no one of this."

He lifts his finger and thumb to his mouth, drawing a line across his lips and ending with a flourish. "Ah, my lips are sealed, Ms. Mars."

Carefully, she places her shoes down on the sand, then reaches behind her back to unzip her dress. It falls to the ground and then she's standing before him in a strapless bra and panties. He swallows.

"Logan." She shoots him am expectant glare and he realises he's staring, his hand still hovering over his belt. "We're doing this together, remember?"

"Yes, dear." He grins, quickly unbuckling the belt, then unzipping his pants and pulling them off.

His boxers follow and he tries not to stare when she unclasps her bra, then steps out of her panties and makes a run for the waves. He follows, laughing when she ducks under the water, and then shoots up, gasping at the cold temperature.

"I can't believe we're actually doing this," she grumbles when he joins her, crouching low in the shallow water so that everything but his head and shoulders is submerged.

He reaches for her, tugs her into his lap, his hands resting on her thighs. "Come on, it's fun… exciting… exhilarating…"

"It's fucking freezing is what it is," she complains, holding onto his shoulders for balance. "And in case you haven't noticed, we don't have a means of getting dry afterwards."

"So?" He shrugs. "Who cares? We're being spontaneous."

"If you say so."

"You know, if you're cold, there are ways to warm you up."

"Yeah?" Her tone has gone from annoyed to slightly breathless and he fights the urge to smirk.

"Yep."

Not waiting for a response, he ducks his head, capturing her mouth in a heated kiss. His hands slide up her sides to her back, now covered in goosebumps, and he gently rubs up and down her skin in an attempt to warm her up.

"Better?" he asks when they part.

Her eyes are still closed, but she nods. "Uh, huh."

She shifts closer to him, pressing her hips against his, and despite the cold water, he feels his body begin to react. Reluctantly, he reaches for her waist and moves her backwards.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He's quick to shake his head. "It's just… skinny dipping might not be illegal, but I'm not going to risk getting arrested for public indecency."

"Okay." She nods in understanding and shifts back a little further in his lap, perching on his knees, her arms tightening around his neck for support. "No ocean sex. Got it."

"'Fraid not," he agrees. "We'll just have to wait until we get home."

She smiles, leaning in for another kiss. "I'm holding you to that."

She rests her forehead against his for a moment, before her expression turns thoughtful. "Remember that night in the limo… we were playing Truth or Dare and Lilly asked you what you thought of me the first time you saw me."

He smiles, feeling a small tug in his heart at the memory. "I remember."

"Did you really think I was hot?"

"Well, yeah." He shrugs, feeling his ears burn with embarrassment. "And before you say it, I know, you were only twelve. But so was I, and my hormones were running wild."

She rolls her eyes. "I don't think I want to know about your pre-teen hormones."

"So, uh, what about you?" he ventures. "What did you think of me the first time you saw me?"

"Um, I… uh…" Her eyes widen and she stumbles over the words, and suddenly he's not sure he really wants to know. She smiles impishly then and he relaxes, waiting for it. "Well, you know, you were kind of gangly, all arms and legs, and you had those braces, and your voice was just starting to break—"

"Okay, okay, I get it." He cuts her off with a grin. "I wasn't exactly Tom Cruise."

"No, not then you weren't," she agrees. "But you were nice to me, and you never treated me like I was less than you because I wasn't a rich 09er." Her nose scrunches up. "Well, at least you didn't then."

 _Oh, Veronica, I'm sorry. I was so screwed up after Lilly…_

"I know I've said it before," he tells her softly. "But I really am sorry for how I treated you after Lilly died. I have no excuse for it."

"I know you are," she says. "And I forgave you for it a long time ago."

He looks down. He'll always be sorry for his actions back then, for how horrible he was to her. It took a lot of therapy sessions to work through his problems from that period of his life, and to make peace with himself over it.

Her hand on his cheek forces him to look back up at her again.

"Hey, this is way getting too maudlin for date night," she claims with a small smile. "We're supposed to be having fun."

"We are, aren't we?"

It's like a weight lifts off his chest and he smiles then, pushing away the gloomy thoughts. She shrieks when he unexpectedly tackles her, pulling her off his lap and dumping her into the water.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Logan's nervous. It's stupid, really, he thinks, staring at the sterile-looking coffee machine in the hospital corridor; he flies fighter jets for a living, he's served his country in Afghanistan, he's put himself in danger on the frontline. Compared to that, this is nothing. He has no need to be nervous.

But he is. It's Keith Mars. Veronica's father, the man who has never really approved of him or his relationship with his daughter. He's also the man who saved his life that morning on the beach. He owes the guy his fucking life.

It's a fucking big deal.

Uneasily shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he reaches for the first cup of coffee, tries to wait patiently for the second. He isn't looking forward to going back into that hospital room. It was awkward enough already just stepping inside to greet the man earlier, Veronica's hand clutching his reassuringly, let alone trying to make conversation with him. It made him feel like an ungainly teenager, meeting his girlfriend's father for the first time, rather than the confident, 28-year-old naval officer he actually is.

So, after the awkward pleasantries and a failed attempt at small talk, Logan did the only thing he could think of and made a quick escape under the guise of getting coffee. Not that it's helped in any way, given that the prospect of returning to the room is sending his anxiety levels through the roof.

When the second coffee is ready, he grabs it and makes his way back down the corridor towards Keith's room, stopping just outside when he hears the topic of conversation.

"What about your apartment, Veronica?" Keith is saying. "You can't just up and move out without warning."

"Dad," Veronica returns warningly. "I'll work it out, okay."

"You're telling me that Stosh is perfectly fine with you just clearing out and leaving him with an empty apartment and double the rent?"

Outside the door, Logan freezes. Veronica and Piz are living together in New York? She hasn't mentioned that vital detail.

"He doesn't really have a say in it," she replies sharply. "He broke it off; he made his choice." Logan can picture her shrugging. "Now he has to deal with that choice."

"Veronica—"

"Look, it'll be fine, Dad." Veronica sighs. "I spoke to Piz yesterday."

 _She did?_ Logan frowns. _When_? They'd slept in late yesterday after their skinny-dipping adventure the night before, then met Mac for lunch at a small café near the Kane Software building to discuss what she'd found out about the crash—which was pretty much nothing so far—and spent the afternoon taking a drive up the coast, followed by another evening of homemade dinner, conversation and great sex. He's not sure exactly when she found the time to talk to Piz as well.

"I explained that I was staying here now and that I would fly out in a couple of weeks and pack up my stuff."

"And he was okay with that?"

There's silence for a long moment, and Logan can imagine she's scrunching her nose up in thought, trying to figure out how best to answer.

"Well, no, not really," she admits, her tone a little sheepish. "But that's not the point. It doesn't change the fact that I'm moving out of the apartment and back to Neptune. Piz is just going to have to deal with it."

"Honey…"

"Stop, Dad, okay?" Her voice sounds clipped. "I know you don't like my decision. But it is my decision." There's a pause before, "Besides, with you still healing, someone needs to look after Mars Investigations, and who better to do that than yours truly? I'm already looking into renewing my PI licence."

"Veronica…"

Logan's glad the conversation has veered away from Veronica and Piz, but he can sense another argument brewing, so he chooses that moment to step around the corner and into the room.

Veronica turns in her seat beside the bed to give him a grateful smile as she takes the offered coffee, but Logan notices that Keith's attention remains on his daughter as she settles back into the chair. Feeling a little like he's intruding, Logan takes a seat on the chair next to her and sips at his coffee.

"So, Keith, you're looking well," he says finally.

He really has no idea how to act around the man. He hasn't had much contact with Keith over the last few years, not since he left Neptune for the navy. Even before that, they hadn't crossed paths often. They occasionally bumped into each other when he was back at Hearst and working towards his degree, having cleaned up his life. Keith would ask how he was doing, check that he was well, but other than that, they didn't have any kind of meaningful relationship.

Logan has the feeling that while Keith saved his life and helped him get back on track, he still doesn't approve of him as a suitable partner for his daughter.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose," says Keith, though there's no malice or irritation behind the words, just plain, simple fact. The man gives him a small, tight smile. "I hear I have you to thank for getting me out of that car."

Logan shrugs, shaking his head. "It was nothing."

"It wasn't nothing," Veronica protests, turning her head to look at him, eyes wide.

"Thank you, Logan." Keith's tone is sincere and when Logan averts his eyes from Veronica's and looks back at him, he sees the softer expression on the older man's face.

He nods. "I'm glad you're okay, sir."

At that, Veronica's head whips back to him again, her eyes wide with shock. Logan fights the urge to smirk at her expression.

"Sir?" She sounds incredulous. "Since when do you call my dad 'sir'?"

"Sorry, force of habit," he replies with a slightly amused smile. "Military and all."

"Well, feel free to continue doing so," Keith says then, a small, reluctant smile pulling at his lips.

Logan nods dutifully, putting only a small amount of irreverence in his tone when he says. "Yes, sir."

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Veronica roll her eyes at him, but Logan holds Keith's gaze for a moment longer, an understanding passing between them. He relaxes a little; thinking this might just indicate the beginning of a tentative thaw between them.

* * *

Keith indulges Veronica in their usual playful banter, though he can sense she's trying too hard; her voice is too high-pitched and her normally witty jibes a little off. He's seen her like this once before: that time back in her first year of college when she brought Logan home for dinner. She's nervous, and by the way he keeps squeezing her hand, Logan sees it too. As he continues their conversation, Keith can't help but watch the man sitting beside his daughter thoughtfully.

He was telling the truth when he told Veronica he didn't think Logan was a bad guy. He's not. He knows the kid's had a hard life, can see now that the majority of the boy's behaviour as a teenager was a reaction to his less than stellar upbringing and the unfortunate hand he was dealt. With a philandering, violent murderer for a father, a depressed drunk for a mother and an attention-seeking, media-hungry sister, not to mention growing up in the Hollywood spotlight, Keith's surprised Logan has turned out as well as he has.

Of course, he's had his troubles; Keith remembers very well how far he's fallen in the past. He can still see the broken man in that hospital bed, close to death. That October morning, the day Backup frantically tugged on his leash and led him over to Logan's unconscious body face down in the surf, is still seared into his mind. No matter what he felt about the boy before that point, his heart still leapt into his throat the moment he recognised Logan, the moment he realised the boy was close to death and that he had to act fast if he wanted to save him.

He didn't even think twice about helping, about running over to him and using all of his first aid knowledge as he called an ambulance. It wasn't even about Veronica, though his daughter definitely crossed his mind as he frantically tried to save the boy's life. He knew she still cared for Logan, possibly even still loved him, despite her vehement protests to the contrary.

"Hey, honey," he says to her now, interrupting the flow of conversation, as he eyes Logan once again. "I'm craving some of those delicious, gooey cookies they have in the cafeteria. You think you could do your father a solid and go down there get some for me?"

"What, now?" She's clearly confused at the sudden change in topic.

She glances at Logan, who just shrugs, a similar expression on his face. Keith gives her his best pleading expression. "Please? I'm starving in here, and the regulation food definitely leaves something to be desired."

"Oh, uh, yeah sure. I can do that." She relents, reaching for her purse. She hesitantly releases Logan's hand, as if she doesn't want to leave him alone with him, and stands up. "I'll, uh, be right back."

Keith's gaze follows her as she leaves the room, then returns to Logan, who shifts in his chair, looking uncomfortable. He realises it's the first time the two of them have been alone in a room since Logan was the one in a hospital bed, recovering from an almost fatal overdose.

"Logan." He nods toward the younger man.

Logan returns the nod awkwardly. "Mr. Mars."

"Look, I wanted to talk to you, while Veronica isn't here."

Logan frowns for a moment, looking puzzled, before he realises what's going on. His expression clears, mouth lifting in a lopsided smile. "Cookies, huh?"

Keith shrugs unapologetically. "Only thing I could think of. I've heard the food line is long this time of day."

"Sneaky." Logan nods knowingly, though he seems tense and his expression turns apprehensive as he adds, "You wanted to talk?"

Keith nods. "Look, I know we haven't really kept in contact, but I wanted to tell you that I'm proud of how you've turned your life around."

Logan straightens, his mouth falling open. "I… uh, thanks."

"You seem surprised." Keith has to fight the urge not to smile as Logan shrugs, looking uncharacteristically timid.

"Yeah, I mean… you're Veronica's father." He fidgets in his seat, avoiding Keith's gaze. "I always got the feeling you didn't approve of me."

 _He's got you there._

"Yeah, you're not wrong." Keith nods. "But Logan, it wasn't because I thought you were a bad guy; I just didn't think you and my daughter were good for each other back then."

"Oh." Logan looks down at his hands briefly and when he lifts his head, he looks almost… relieved? "Yeah, you were probably right about that. I was a fucked-up mess."

Keith frowns at Logan's despondent expression. "You were dealt a bad hand, Logan; that wasn't your fault. You were acting out, I get that. I've seen enough over the years to recognise the behaviour of abuse victims."

"W-what?" Logan pales, his eyes widening and his back now ramrod straight. "How, uh, how did—?" He shakes his head. "I mean, Veronica didn't—?"

"Oh… no, she didn't say anything to me," Keith assures him, expression sympathetic as Logan visibly relaxes. "It just… it made sense. I didn't realise until it was too late though, and I'm sorry for that. If I'd known earlier—"

"No." Logan cuts him off firmly, shakes his head. "I was handling it."

 _Really? Is that what you call it?_ Keith feels a tug in his chest. _Poor kid._

"Maybe. But you shouldn't have had to."

Logan looks away uncomfortably. "It didn't matter anyway, in the end. He was dead by the time I was 18."

"Still…"

"Yeah." Logan just shrugs.

"Look, I can't claim to understand what you were going through," says Keith. "But I do understand now why you did some of the things you did; what might have led to that day on the beach."

"Yeah," Logan repeats, his tone more guarded now as he shifts in the chair. "It wasn't deliberate, you know. It's not like I went to the beach with the intention of…" He trails off, but his meaning is clear. "But by that point I didn't care if I lived either. It wasn't the first time"—Keith blinks. He didn't know that—"And if it hadn't been for you, it probably wouldn't have been the last. Well," he amends, "I guess it could have been, you know, if you hadn't found me." He clears his throat nervously, the sincerity clear in his eyes. "So, thank you, for yelling at me, for forcing me to face reality. I owe you my life for that."

Keith nods. "And now it seems I owe you mine. I guess that makes us even."

Logan smiles slightly. "Guess it does."

Keith glances toward the door, listening out for signs of his daughter returning.

"Look, I also wanted to say that I think you've done well for yourself: a navy lieutenant, of all things…"

"Yeah, I never would have thought it either." Logan cuts in sheepishly.

"I know you and Veronica are… getting to know each other again." Keith tries to phrase it delicately, not wanting to think about the exact nature of the relationship.

"Yeah, we are." Logan nods, eyeing him warily.

"She tells me you're leaving on deployment soon."

He nods again, looking slightly pained. "Yeah, end of next week."

"Logan, I love my daughter; I don't want to see her get hurt again," says Keith seriously, hoping he can convey to Logan exactly how important Veronica's wellbeing is to him. "She's uprooted her life—one she's worked very hard for, I might add—to stay here in Neptune. I need to know that, for you, this isn't just misguided gratitude towards her, or worse, some two-week trip down memory lane before you leave the country."

"Look, Mr. Mars, no one was as surprised as I was when she told me she was going to stay here," admits Logan and Keith is surprised to hear a note of awe in his tone. "It was the last thing I expected, but I can't say I wasn't hoping for it."

Logan runs a hand through his close-cut hair, letting out a huff of air before he looks at him earnestly.

"Look, you know I'm not the same messed up kid I was when she left. I've worked so hard to get myself clean, to make something of myself, and I can't deny that at least part of it was for her." He exhales heavily. "We have a second chance now, a chance to do things right this time around, and I'm going to do everything I can not to mess it up."

Despite keeping a straight face, Keith has to admit he's a little taken aback by the vehemence and determination in Logan's tone, the sincerity in his eyes. He's always seen Logan as a reckless kid. Even when he got clean, even when he up and joined the navy, Keith hadn't been able to shake that impression of him, but looking at him now, so serious and resolute, he's struck by the realisation that Logan Echolls really is no longer a boy; he's a man now, a calm, controlled, mature man. A man who quite obviously loves his daughter.

He nods slowly. "Okay."

Logan blinks, brow rising, clearly surprised. "Okay?"

"Okay." Keith lets his mouth twitch up into a tentative smile. "I get it, Logan, I do. But, she's my daughter"—he shoots Logan a meaningful look—"you hurt her again, and—"

"I got it." Logan cuts in quickly, his gaze lifting to Keith's, shoulders relaxing slightly, the relief evident. "Thank you… sir."

Keith just nods once. There's a beat of silence, the tension between them not quite dissipated. Keith leaves it a moment longer, letting the boy stew for second before he changes the subject.

"So, how about them Padres?"

"Dad, come on, you know Logan's not into baseball." Veronica's voice rings loud from the doorway. "He doesn't need you boring him with all your Padres talk."

"Veronica, what took you so long?" Keith says then, noting how relieved Logan looks that she appeared just then and not a minute earlier. "I was about to send out a search party."

"Yeah, well next time, don't send me down there at the busiest time of the morning," she grumbles, before shuddering and holding out the bag of cookies to him. "That brunch crowd is brutal."

His daughter huffs and rolls her eyes as she takes her seat again. Beside her, Logan smirks at him and Keith gives a quick quirk of his eyebrow in response.

* * *

"So…" Veronica's arms wrap around him from behind as Logan chops tomatoes for the salad he's preparing for lunch a couple of hours later. "This is all very domestic."

He frowns, looking down at the fruit, before shrugging. "It's just tomatoes."

"Logan, you're making salad," she says teasingly. "I don't think I've even seen you _eat_ a salad before."

She releases his waist and hops up onto the counter beside him.

"I like to eat healthy when I'm home." He shrugs again, glancing over at her. "There's an obscene amount of carbs on the carrier… and a distinct lack of fresh fruit and veg. After six months, you just crave good ole' vitamins and minerals."

"That must suck." Veronica wrinkles her nose and Logan nods in agreement. "Guess that explains the large assortment of fruit I found in the fridge last week."

He nods as he finishes chopping the tomatoes and moves on to the cucumber, cutting it cleanly and efficiently before adding it all to the salad bowl. When he turns back toward Veronica, she stretches out her legs, curling them around the back of his thighs and pulling him toward her. He goes willingly, placing his hands flat on the counter either side of her hips and grinning when she kisses him lightly.

"Hey." Her tone is playful, as her hands come up to rest on his hips.

"Hi," he returns with a smile.

"Thanks for this morning, with my dad," she says then. "I know it was awkward for you, so thanks for coming."

"It wasn't that bad… in the end," he admits, still not quite sure how to interpret his conversation with Keith earlier.

"So," she hedges. "You two talk about anything interesting while I was fending off the crowds in the cafeteria?"

"Not really," he says evasively.

Logan leans back slightly, lifting a hand to brush her hair back over her shoulder. He studies her thoughtfully, the conversation he overheard between her and Keith this morning running through his mind. His mouth opens before he has a chance to think better of it.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

She's looking at him thoughtfully, and he wonders what's going on in her head, whether she can sense that he's about to bring up an awkward topic of conversation.

"Sure."

"You and Piz…" He trails off uncertainly.

Her eyes widen in surprise. "You want to talk about me and Piz?"

"Yeah." He nods. "I was wondering something…"

"Yeah?" She's looking at him expectantly, so pushes down the urge to shrug it off and forges ahead.

"I just… I'm wondering, is _this—_ " He gestures between them. "—fair to him? I mean, you've been with the guy, what, nine years… that's a lot of history to throw away just like that."

"What?" She's looking at him with a mixture of surprise and confusion. "You think…? Oh… no, Logan, we weren't together all that time."

"You weren't?" He's not too proud to admit to how relieved he is to hear that.

"God, no." Her shocked reaction to that idea almost makes him chuckle. "No, we broke up years ago, way back at the end of Freshman year, after… uh, before I left Neptune."

"You did?"

He's surprised—he always assumed they'd stayed together. He hadn't seen Piz again after freshman year, so he guessed they'd gone together. Of course, he hadn't been aware of much else back then besides his own selfish whims, so he probably wouldn't have even noticed if the guy was around anyway.

She nods. "Until about 15 months ago, I hadn't seen or heard from him in years. I know he and Wallace stayed friends, but for us it was a pretty clean break."

"Oh." He's not sure what to say to that.

"Yeah." She shrugs. "We bumped into each other at a coffee shop in Manhattan one morning. He'd just moved to the city and didn't know anyone yet. We got to talking, then started hanging out occasionally and that turned into dating."

"But it was serious, though?" He can't help pressing, even though he's sure he doesn't want to know the answer. "I mean, you were living with the guy?"

"Well, yeah, but—" She stops, frowning. "Wait, how did you know that?"

He shrugs awkwardly. "I might have overheard you and your dad talking about it this morning."

"Oh." She looks down for a moment. "Look, in hindsight, it probably wasn't the best decision I've made. My roommate had just moved in with her fiancé and I couldn't afford the rent on my own. Piz had a spare room, was looking for someone to split the bills with… so we just kind of ended up living together."

"Oh..."

She sighs, letting her hands slide around to his stomach, resting against his shirt. "I'll be honest: being with Piz this last year, it was good. He's a nice guy, you know, and he loved me and we had fun together…"

"But?" Logan prompts, ignoring the painful twist in his stomach at the thought of Veronica and Piz having _fun_ and being in love.

She looks at him steadily. "You know what Wallace said to me the night I got home after you called? He wanted to know if I asked 'how high?' when you said 'jump'."

He cringes, guilt sweeping through him. _Shit_. He shakes his head, intending to apologise. "Veronica…"

"No, Logan… it's not like that, okay?" She assures him with a smile. "I came because I wanted to, because there was no way I could _not_ come. He just couldn't understand why I would drop baggage-free, drama-free Piz to help you."

"He kinda has a point," he acknowledges reluctantly. He has so much baggage there's nowhere to store it all.

She shoots him a look. "At the time, I shrugged it off, said something inane about the 'no drama' part being why I liked him." Logan opens his mouth to speak but she holds up a hand to stop him. "But the thing is, what's a relationship if there's no excitement, no drama… no passion, no arguments? Sure, it might be easy, but should it be?"

Logan looks down at her hands, now resting in her lap, says softly. "Well, they don't write songs about the ones that come easy."

Veronica stiffens. "What?"

He looks up, surprised at the look of alarm on her face. She's suddenly gone pale. "What?"

"You uh… what you just said. It was—I mean… you remember?" She stumbles over the words and Logan frowns.

 _What's going on here? What am I missing?_

"Remember?" His brow scrunches thoughtfully, searching for any inkling he's supposed to know what she's talking about. "Remember what? It's just something my mom used to say."

"You've said that to me before." Her voice is soft, hesitant.

 _I have? When the hell was that?_

"I did? When?"

She won't look at him and a feeling of dread starts to build.

"That night, at the uh… Alterna-Prom?" she mutters. "When you were drunk…"

"Shit." He winces. _Fuck_. "I did?"

He still only has vague memories of that night. That terrible night when he'd obviously said something to Veronica that had her appearing outside his hotel room the next morning, trying to rekindle some kind of relationship. And he'd ruined the entire thing, destroyed whatever kind of truce they'd been about to come to, with one stupid, drunken roll in the sack with Kendall Casablancas.

"Yeah."

He cringes, wishing like hell he could take back that night, do it over again. "What else did I say?"

"Oh, just you know, something about our story being epic." She smiles sadly. "That it spanned years and continents. You said it was 'lives ruined, bloodshed, epic'."

His brow furrows as he frantically searches through his memories, trying to locate that particular moment. The effort is fruitless.

"Really? I said that?" She nods, lips twitching up in a small smile. Logan frowns, her previous words finally sinking in _'lives ruined, bloodshed, epic'…_ apparently he could be a poetic son of a bitch when he was drunk. "Wow."

"Yeah." She pauses for a moment, then smiles again. "You know, back then I thought it was a little overdramatic, what with the whole 'years and continents' thing, but you know what? It kind of fits now."

He feels startled for a moment, then nods slowly. She's right. It's kind of a perfect description for their relationship right now.

"I guess it does." He squeezes her hand. "Look, Veronica, I'm sorry about that night and for what happened after. _Especially_ for what happened after. I was an idiot."

"Yeah, you were." The quick, playful retort slips out instantly and Logan sees the moment she realises she's said it. She stops, composes herself, looks at him more seriously. "Logan, it's okay. It was a long time ago. So much else happened between us after that, so much time has passed since then. It's… water under the bridge."

"I'm still sorry," he tells her sincerely. No matter what she says, it feels like he can't apologise enough for all the shit he's put her through over the years.

She smiles, catching his shirt in her fingers and tugging him closer. Her lips meet his and he sighs into her mouth, relaxing into the embrace. He's so glad she's here, that they're talking, trying to work through their issues. It's been a long time coming, and it's something he's sure they both need.

He just wishes they had more time.

She pulls away a moment later, her eyelids fluttering open as she grins at him. "So, how about that salad?"

* * *

"What do you wanna watch?" asks Logan, flicking through the TV channels as they relax in the beach house later that afternoon. He's not impressed by the selection so far.

Veronica stretches out on the couch and places her feet flat on the cushions, her hands folded across her stomach. She turns her head, which is resting on Logan's lap, to look at the screen.

"Umm, what's on?"

"Nothing, it seems." He continues flicking aimlessly.

"Wait, stop." She says when a man in white appears on screen and then promptly disappears, replaced by a commercial for bathroom cleaner. "What was that last one?"

Reluctantly, Logan switches back to the previous channel, knowing exactly what she's seen.

"Ooh, yeah, let's watch this."

Logan looks skyward. "Seriously, Veronica?"

"What?" She tries to look innocent… and fails. "It's a good movie. And it's about law."

"Oh, and it has nothing to do with Tom Cruise in navy whites?"

 _What is it with Tom Cruise and navy movies? First Top Gun, and then this?_

"Aww, are you jealous?" She grins up at him playfully.

"Yeah, right." He snorts, shaking his head, but leaves the TV tuned to the movie. He can't seem to deny her anything these days. "Like Tom Cruise has anything on me."

"For the record, you look much hotter in your navy whites," she pipes up then.

"Yeah?" He looks down at her, but Veronica just wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, then reaches for his hand and links their fingers.

Logan watches her with a smile as she turns onto her side, bringing their joined hands with her, so his arm is resting on her waist. She slides her hand under her head, supporting it on his lap so she can see the screen better.

The sight of her, head on his thigh, bare legs on full display, combined with that expression in her eyes just before she looked away makes his stomach clench, heat pooling in his belly. He swallows, willing his body to calm down. They're supposed to be having a relaxing afternoon, hanging out and watching movies… which isn't going to happen if he can't think about anything but sex.

 _"But you have to ask me nicely."_ Jack Nicholson's character says on the screen a few minutes later.

Logan notices Veronica is murmuring the words along with him and he presses his lips together to stop himself from grinning as he reaches out and runs his fingers through the silky strands of her hair.

On the screen, Tom Cruise stops and turns around. _"I beg your pardon?"_

 _"You have to ask me nicely."_ Jack continues in a controlled, menacing tone, Veronica saying the lines along with him. _"You see, Danny, I can deal with the bullets, the bombs and the blood. I can deal with the heat and the stress and the fear. I don't want money and I don't want medals."_

Logan can't help himself; he looks down at her again, waiting for it. He knows what comes next, just wonders if she'll actually say it.

And she does. In its full explicit glory.

 _"What I want is for you to stand there in that faggoty white uniform, and with your Harvard mouth, extend me some fuckin' courtesy."_ Her voice is stronger now, firm and controlled, and the sound of it sends the blood straight to his crotch. _"You gotta ask me nicely."_

Logan can't take it anymore. He swallows, then clears his throat, hoping his voice remains steady, "Is that right, Ms. Mars?"

His fingers tighten in her hair slightly, causing her to look up at him. Her lips twitch up into an impish smirk, her eyes dark with… well, he's not sure he can describe _that_ expression. She looks like she wants to devour him.

 _Oh, God._

"Well…" she starts slowly, deliberately, as she sits up, watching him the whole time, and slides into his lap, straddling his thighs. She reaches for the lapels of his shirt, her jaw set with determination. "I think I deserve some respect, don't you, Lieutenant?"

Her eyebrow quirks as if in challenge, and he lifts his jaw defiantly, determined not to let her see him surrender to her feminine wiles so easily.

"Do you now?" He forces himself to keep the tone neutral, firm, even as his hands come up to curve around her ass and pull her closer. "And what exactly have you done to deserve my respect?"

She quirks an eyebrow again, shifting in his lap so that she's pressing against his rapidly hardening erection. He resists the urge to groan. _God, she's driving me crazy._

"Hmm, let me think…" She lifts a finger to her chin, pondering the question. "Could it possibly be that I got you off a murder charge just a week ago? I think that's definitely deserving of respect."

He grins, feeling a swell of emotion— _Love?—_ in his chest. _God, this woman_.

"Yeah, that could be it." His voice drops lower as he speaks, his eyes flicking to her full lips, watching her tongue dart out to wet them. He swallows again.

"Kiss me. Now." she demands then, and he thinks it's one of the hottest things he's heard come out of her mouth.

"Yes, ma'am."

He leans forwards, touches his lips to hers, intending to go slow, but Veronica has other ideas. She tugs on his shirt, her hands fisting in the material, and pulls him to her, kissing him urgently, heatedly. Her tongue slides into his mouth, taking control, and he can do nothing but sit back and enjoy the ride. He's decided he loves it when she takes charge. It's a major turn on.

Back in high school and college, she was hesitant, reserved even, when it came to sex. It took her a long time to get comfortable enough to trust him with her body, and he couldn't blame her, not after everything she'd been through. As much as she tried to convince him that she could deal with the intimacy, they both knew she'd never fully come to terms with what had happened that night at Shelley's party, or with what she'd learned about Cassidy on the roof of the Neptune Grand; that she'd never dealt with the fallout from it, and as much as he denied it at the time, assured her it was fine, it had definitely affected their sex life.

Obviously something has changed in the nine years since then. She's more confident, more willing to open up, to lay herself bare; she knows what she wants now and isn't afraid to ask for it, to demand it if she so desires. And Logan can't deny that he loves this new side of her; it's incredibly hot.

She's pressing herself against him, tugging him to her, arms winding tightly around his neck as she kisses him hard, like she's trying to get as close as humanly possible. When she finally pulls back, she's gasping for air, her eyes hooded, face flushed, and he feels his breath catch at the sight of her. He can only stare dumbly when her fingers reach for the buttons on his shirt, undoing them deftly. Then she's tugging it forcefully over his shoulders, down his arms, leaving it pooling around his wrists as she runs her hands over every inch of his torso.

Her hands lower to his pants, fingers working at the belt buckle, unclasping it and wasting no time in flicking open the button and sliding down the zipper. Logan just barely resists the urge to buck his hips when her fingers brush over his erection. _Fuck_ , he thinks absently when she releases him from the confines of his boxers, then stands up, tugging down her shorts and panties, stepping out of them and then settling on his lap again.

She loops her arms around his neck again, and looks him directly in the eye. "Fuck me, Lieutenant."

He can only nod quickly, knowing there's nothing he can deny her right this second, and digs his hand into his pocket for the condom he shoved there earlier, quickly opens it and rolls it on, then positions himself at her entrance. She sinks down onto him quickly, and he lets out a harsh breath in response to the feel of her tight, wet heat surrounding him.

"Come on. Move," she demands, and his stomach tightens at the no-nonsense tone.

"Aye, aye, ma'am…" He grasps her waist, guiding her to move above him as he rocks his hips up into her.

"Faster, Lieutenant," she commands. "That's an order."

"Fuck, Veronica," he breathes, increasing the pace the best he can from this position. She's making him do the work and he's so turned on right now. "Jesus."

She reaches up, grabs his hair and tugs his head up to face her. Her jaw is set, her eyes burning into him like fire. _She's so fucking gorgeous_. "What was that, Lieutenant? Think you can mouth off to me?"

"No, ma'am." He tries not to smirk, he really does. He jerks his hips up quickly as he says, "Sorry, ma'am."

"Fuck…" Her head falls back in pleasure. "Don't stop."

"So you can say it, but I can't?" He's pushing his luck, he knows, but he can't help it; he loves her like this.

"That's right." She breathes, bringing her gaze back to his. "Fuck, I need…"

She reaches for his hands, drags them under her shirt and up to cup her breasts over her lacy bra. Taking her cue, he squeezes gently, brushing his thumbs over her hard nipples, pinching them between his thumb and finger, enjoying the way she bucks her hips in response.

"This isn't—it's not enough," she says a few moments later. "I need… more."

It takes Logan a moment to realise what she's asking, but then he shifts beneath her, pushing her down onto the couch cushions, covering his body with hers.

"Wait a minute." He lifts up, so he can get rid of his shirt and pants, but she stops him, her hands clasping his butt and holding him close.

"Did I give you permission to move?"

"No, ma'am." He smirks. "Just thought you'd appreciate it if I could, uh, manoeuvre more freely?"

She narrows her eyes for a second, before relenting. "Fine, permission to remove your shirt, Lieutenant."

He winks, rising up onto his knees and tugging the shirt from his wrists, letting it fall to the floor, while Veronica slips her hands beneath the elastic of his boxers and slides them and his pants down over his ass so they pool around his thighs. Logan slides over her again, wasting no time in burying himself deep inside her welcoming body.

"God," she breathes, wrapping her arms around his neck as he thrusts into her. "Can't get enough of you."

"Me either."

He realises then that they haven't even kissed since she started undressing him. It doesn't feel right.

In a surprisingly tender move considering the game they're playing, he lifts his forefinger to her temple, traces her skin gently as he asks, "Permission to kiss you?"

She nods, her expression softening slightly. "Permission granted."

He lowers his mouth to hers, capturing it in a needy kiss, as he strokes steadily into her.

"More." She mumbles against his lips. "I need… more, Logan."

"Of course."

He pulls back, then thrusts into her deeply, forcefully, making her gasp. Pulls out again slowly, sinks back in, repeats the deliberate movement over and over, until she's clinging to him, breath coming fast and shaky, until she's crying out with pleasure, begging him for… well, he's not sure what exactly, her words are pretty incoherent. He can feel himself getting close, knows he won't last much longer, but she's not there yet.

He lowers his mouth to her ear, whispers silkily, "Permission to make you come, ma'am?"

"God… fuck…yes, permission granted," she manages.

He watches her face as he holds himself up on one elbow and slips his hand between their bodies, feeling for her clit, running his fingers over the engorged skin, applying pressure just where he knows she needs it. Her eyes are closed, her brow furrowed as if in concentration, but then her expression clears, transforms into one of rapture, and he knows he's hit the spot. Her inner muscles clench around him, her back arching, her head thrown back against the cushions, a long, needy moan flying from her lips.

 _God, she's so beautiful when she comes_ , he thinks absently. _I could watch her like this forever._

He slows his movements as she comes down from the high, gasping for breath, clutching at him like he's her lifeline. But then she opens her eyes and looks at him challengingly.

"Did I tell you to stop moving?"

"No, ma'am." He chuckles, bucking his hips into her again. "I apologise sincerely."

She tightens her arms around his neck, pulls herself up so her mouth is level with his ear, and says, "Come for me. That's an order."

"Yes, ma'am," he replies, heat shooting to his groin as he quickens his thrusts, stroking urgently into her as he works his way towards climax.

 _Fuck, Veronica. What are you doing to me?_

* * *

"Wow," Veronica murmurs, as they lie tangled together on the couch. "That was… um…"

She feels embarrassed, now that the haze of arousal and desire is lifting and her pulse is returning to normal.

"Yeah." Logan chuckles against her collarbone. "That was fucking hot."

"I can't believe I just did that."

Logan lifts his head, his eyes burning into her. "I can."

She groans, covering her face with her hand. "I'm so embarrassed."

"Veronica." Logan reaches out, lifts her hand from her face. "You don't ever have to be embarrassed for wanting... well, whatever you want from sex."

"Oh God." She can feel her ears burning, wishing she was anywhere but having this conversation right now.

"Seriously." He props himself up on his elbows so he can look down at her. "I'm pretty open when it comes to sex… not much I haven't done or experienced over the years."

She feels a twinge of jealousy, and mumbles, "Yeah, don't remind me."

He just gives her a look. "I'm just saying, you don't have to worry about freaking me out. Just tell me what you want. As long as it's not something really creepy or weird, I'm cool with it."

"I just…" She sighs. "I don't know. It's like everything's fine when we're… you know… in the mood, but then afterwards, it's just kind of weird."

"Everyone feels like that sometimes, Veronica." He's quick to assure her. "Nothing to be ashamed of."

She just groans again, before gently pushing at his chest, urging him up. He complies and she sits up. She reaches for her underwear, tugging it on quickly before standing up and padding over to the bathroom. When she opens the door a couple of minutes later, she almost walks right into Logan, who is standing right outside, bare-chested, his pants still unzipped, boxers visible. He looks like an underwear model or something.

"Oops. Sorry." She laughs lightly, then promptly curses herself for sounding like an embarrassed teenager.

He just grins and pecks her on the lips before sidestepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. Veronica shakes her head at the door, then heads to the bedroom for clean underwear, before settling back on the couch again, tugging a blanket around her as she curls up on the cushions. The movie is still playing and Veronica's eyes are drawn to it, a combination of embarrassment and fascination flooding through her. She can't help but wonder about Logan's life in the navy, whether it's anything like it's portrayed in the movies.

Logan emerges from the bathroom and joins her on the sofa again. Without a word, she shifts, allowing him to slide in behind her. The couch is just big enough to accommodate them both if they spoon together. He pulls the blanket around them, then slips his arm around her waist, kissing the top of her head lightly.

"You good?" he asks softly.

"Yeah." She nods, feeling his warmth surrounding her. "You?"

"I'm great." He replies. "Perfect."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Logan's ten days of leave are passing way too quickly, Veronica decides on Saturday morning. She's all too aware of the fact that they only have a few days left together. He has to go down to base for pre-deployment briefings on Wednesday and then he leaves on the ship on Thursday… that's only five days away. _Well_ , _120 hours, but who's counting?_

She's trying desperately not to think about it, about what's going to happen when he has to go, about how she's going to deal with it. She's not going to be able to hold or kiss or touch him for a whole six months. Okay, so she's managed nine years already, but that was different. Before she left Neptune, her relationship with Logan had been fractured and awkward; they hadn't even been together by the end… and she hadn't just spent several blissful days holed up with him in a private beach house having the best sex of her life.

This morning though, she's not at the beach house, she's standing in her father's kitchen, trying to figure out the antiquated coffee machine that he still hasn't gotten around to modernising. Dick had returned home from his business trip yesterday evening, snorted in annoyance at the sight of her and Logan snuggling on the couch, and immediately insisted on a much-needed poker night with the guys. Since spending an evening with Dick and his obnoxious friends getting drunk and acting like idiots was not something Veronica had any desire to partake in, she left them to it and returned to her dad's house, inviting Mac and Wallace over for a movie and wine night instead.

Now it's morning and while Veronica is attempting to cure her hangover with coffee and dry toast, Mac's in the spare room, sleeping off the copious amounts of wine they consumed last night. Wallace, on the other hand, is sprawled across the living room floor, tangled in blankets, having fallen off the sofa in his sleep. The Mars household is not in a good way this morning.

When the coffee is finally ready, Veronica pours a cup for herself, then carries it, along with a plate of toast, out to the dining table. She's contemplating whether her churning stomach will be able to handle a few bites when her debate is interrupted by a knock at the front door.

"It's way too early for this," she grumbles, pushing up from the table, bringing the mug of coffee with her.

She opens the door to a bright-eyed, grinning Logan, paper bag in hand.

"Morning, tiny blonde one," he says cheerfully—too cheerfully for her liking—and holds up the bag. "I brought donuts."

"Hey." She forces a smile through the hangover haze. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd still be sleeping it off."

"One of the benefits of abstaining." He shrugs, the corner of his mouth lifting as he makes a gesture with his free hand. "And then there's that pesky, early-morning body clock of mine."

"Nice to see you're so chipper this morning."

Logan's studies her for a moment, then his mouth twitches up in an amused smile. "Hungover, are we?"

"Oh, shut up." Veronica lifts the mug to her lips, takes a sip, grimacing as she swallows. Maybe coffee wasn't the best idea.

He gives her a sympathetic glance before stepping forward, his hand resting on her upper arm as he presses a kiss to her forehead. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah." She nods. "You wanna come in? I have to warn you though, it's a bit of a war zone in here."

"Well, I do thrive in war zones." He steps inside the house, cocking an eyebrow at the sight of Wallace passed out on the living room floor. "Uh, he okay?"

"He'll be fine." Wallace didn't drink as much as she and Mac last night. "Though he's supposed to be sleeping _on_ the couch, not beside it."

As if he senses they're in the room, Wallace groans from the floor, turning over and running a hand over his face, prying open one eye.

"Morning, sleepyhead." Veronica greets with a sympathetic smile.

"What the hell?" Wallace grumbles, pulling himself up into a sitting position. "How'd I get—? Never mind, I don't wanna know." He blinks when he notices Logan. "Echolls?"

"Wallace." Logan nods in greeting, holding up the bag again, almost like a peace offering. "Donut?"

"Aw, yeah, man," Wallace says enthusiastically, pulling himself to his feet and grabbing the bag, digging out a warm donut and taking a bite. "Thanks. I'm just gonna…"

Wallace nods towards the bathroom, then shuffles down the hall, leaving the donut bag on the table. Veronica puts her mug of coffee down beside it and turns to Logan, resting her hands on his chest and rising up on tiptoes to give him a quick kiss.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Not that I'm not glad to see you—hangover aside—but to what do I owe the honour of this morning visit?"

Logan gives a smile, lips quirking up as he rests his forehead against hers. "I thought maybe we could take a trip."

"A trip, you say?" She says as cheerfully as she can muster, given her pounding head and roiling stomach. "What kind of trip?"

"How do you feel about San Diego?" he asks. "I thought maybe you'd like to drive down to the base with me today. We could take a couple of days and I could show you around."

Veronica's can feel her smile widening as he talks, hangover momentarily forgotten. _He wants to show me around the naval base? Show me what he does?_

"Ooh, would I get to see your plane?"

He smiles warmly. "If you want."

"I'd love to." She smiles, then realises something, her smile fading. "I don't want to abandon my dad though."

"We don't have to be gone for long," says Logan. "We can leave later this afternoon if you like, so you can see him, and we can drive back Monday morning."

"Okay, sounds good." She kisses him quickly. "But right now I have to shower… and take some Tylenol. Plus, Mac is sleeping in my bed and will probably be up soon."

"You have a girl in your bed?" He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Veronica shoves playfully at his shoulder just as Mac stumbles out of the bedroom with a groan and shuffles into the kitchen.

"I guess that's my cue to leave." He gives her a peck on the lips, then moves toward the door. "Spend some time with your friends and your dad, okay? I'll pick you up at four."

"Okay."

She watches him leave, then goes to find Mac in the kitchen while she waits for Wallace to get out of the bathroom.

* * *

Thankfully, Veronica's hangover is a thing of the past by the time Logan picks her up later that afternoon, which makes for a pleasant drive down to San Diego. They turn off the 5 and cross the San Diego-Coronado Bridge, and a few minutes later, Logan pulls up in front of a one-storey, Spanish-style condo located close to the beach, just a few blocks from the naval base.

"Well, this is my place."

"It's nice," she comments as she steps out of his car.

"Yeah," Logan nods. "I like it."

He pulls their bags from the trunk and gestures for her to head up the path to the front door. He lets them inside, and gives her a quick tour of the place before reaching the bedroom and dropping the bags onto his bed.

It's a nice house, with an open plan kitchen and living area, a spotless bathroom, and a good-size bedroom. It has lovely views of the beach, though it's more simplistic and much smaller than she would have imagined for Logan's tastes.

"What is it?" he asks when he turns and sees her standing in the middle of the bedroom, deep in thought.

"Nothing."

She shakes her head, moving to stand by the window. He slips his arms around her waist from behind, dropping a quick kiss to the side of her neck.

"The place is kinda sparse, I know, but I haven't been here long. We're normally based up at Lemoore, near Fresno, but the jets have been stationed here for the last few weeks in preparation for deployment, so we've relocated." He tightens his arms around her. "And I'm going to be based here when I get back, so I figured I might as well get a place."

"You are?" She shifts in his arms, turning her head so she can see his face.

"Yeah." He nods. "I put in for shore duty here, with the Fleet Readiness Center. Just found out before everything happened that it's been approved."

"That's great, Logan." She grins. _He's going to be based here when he gets back._ "And uh, this is a really nice place…"

"But?" She can hear the amusement in his tone.

"It just… it's not really somewhere I'd have thought you'd choose to live."

"You mean, because it's small and basic and not lavish Hollywood?"

"No, well, I mean, yeah, kinda." She cringes at her inability to form a coherent sentence. "Sorry."

He chuckles, his fingers splaying out across her stomach. "It's okay. I'm not really into lavish and expensive so much anymore, at least not when it comes to living space."

She's surprised by that, given that he grew up in a Hollywood mansion and then spent at least two years of high school and college living in the penthouse suite of the Neptune Grand.

"Yeah?" She turns around to face him and his hands slip to her waist.

He nods. "In the navy, no one is special or singled out because of who they are. We're a team, a family, and we still have to earn the respect of our peers and superiors, regardless of who we are." He shrugs. "When it comes down to it, I'm no different from anyone else on my squadron. First couple of years, I had to share a room in the barracks with three other guys. On the ship, we're six to a room, sleeping on bunk beds. This place is extravagant in comparison."

"Well, when you put it like that…"

The corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles and he kisses her nose. Veronica can't help but study him. His often melancholy eyes are full of life and his smile is genuine, not like those sardonic smirks he wore as a teenager. It's nice to see.

"So, uh, you up for meeting some people tonight?"

Veronica purses her lips thoughtfully. "Guess it depends which people."

"A couple of guys from the squadron are going to the pilots' bar," he says. "I thought maybe you'd like to come along, say hi?"

She nods slowly, a little hesitant. "Yeah, okay."

It's not that she doesn't want to, more that she's never been particularly comfortable spending time with strangers and being forced to make small talk. Even back before Lilly died, before her life fell apart, she hadn't branched out much from their small group—there were a few others, like Yolanda and Meg, but other than that, she didn't have many close friends outside of Lilly, Duncan and Logan.

"You sure?" He watches her carefully, knowing her too well, even after all these years. "We don't have to."

"No, it's okay," she adds quickly. "I'd like to meet them."

Truth is, she's curious about Logan's military friends, about what his life is like now. Like her, he was something of a loner back in high school, despite always being surrounded by people. Even in college, he hadn't really had anyone outside of Dick and their small group of friends. As much as he liked to act the life of the party, to be seen as a social butterfly, the number of real, close friends Logan had back then was extremely small.

"Great." She can see a hint of relief in his expression. "I said we'd be there about eight."

"You did, huh?" She resists the urge to roll her eyes. Of course he did. "Bit presumptuous, don't you think?"

"Maybe… maybe not." He just shrugs, a twinkle in his eye. "You're coming, aren't you?"

* * *

"Okay," says Logan, as he drives along Alameda Blvd and signals to turn left onto the base, filtering into the lane marked DOD. "You'll need your driver's licence to get through the gate."

"Right, sure." Veronica tugs her purse into her lap, digging out her licence.

She hates to admit it, but she's nervous; she's never even set foot on a military base before and it's kind of daunting. Logan seems to sense her uneasiness, because he reaches over to take her hand, squeezing gently in reassurance. She turns her head to find him smiling at her, and her lips twitch up in a small smile in return.

"The gate guard will need to see your ID," he says. "Just hand it to him when he acknowledges you, okay?"

"Okay."

He smiles again, then pulls the car up to the gate, where an African-American man in full uniform steps forward to greet them. Logan hands over his military ID, and Veronica looks on in fascination as the man takes it, nods, and then straightens quickly and lifts his hand to his temple in a formal salute.

"Sir."

Logan tilts his head, and lifts his own hand, returning the salute.

The guard turns to Veronica then, gesturing for her ID. She hands over the licence, sits nervously as he studies it, her heart pounding. She's sure she has nothing to worry about, but this whole military experience just a little intimidating. Eventually the guard nods and hands back the licence.

"You have a good evening, sir." The man nods to Logan, then Veronica, who feels a little shell-shocked. "Ma'am."

Logan nods, giving the man a smile, before stepping on the gas and driving through the gate.

"Ma'am?" Veronica wonders when she can find her voice.

"Yeah, they address civvies that way sometimes, too. Not really sure why." He looks over at her. "You okay?"

"Yeah." She nods. "This is just kind of… surreal."

"You'll get used to it." Logan grins. "Wanna know a secret? All this military stuff scared the shit out of me when I first joined up."

"Really?" Veronica relaxes.

"Yeah." He chuckles. "Never could get on with authority figures."

Veronica laughs. "That's an understatement."

Logan nods in agreement. "They soon drummed that out of me."

Veronica gestures back toward the gate. "That guy called you 'sir'. He saluted you."

"Yeah?" He says in an offhand, 'what of it?' sort of way.

"It's just strange, you know, that you're actually one of those authority figures now."

He grins again. "Never thought you'd see the day, huh?"

"Not in a million years," she teases.

"You know, I'm not _that_ highly ranked," he says. "There are plenty of people I have to salute as well. And call 'sir'."

Veronica smiles, remembering yesterday morning when he'd said that very thing to her father. She glances around at their surroundings as Logan manoeuvres the BMW through the base.

"God, this place is huge."

"It's pretty big," Logan agrees. He starts to point out some of the buildings as they pass them. "That's the uniform store on the right, and then to the left is Technical Training Unit. There's a McDonalds just behind it."

As they get to a crossroads, Veronica's blinks at the sight of three static helicopters sitting on the grass on either side of the road.

"Okay, so the airfield is straight ahead up there." He points to the expanse of concrete in front of them, then towards the helicopters. "There are a lot of rotary aircraft here. This one on the right is a Chinook, and the other two over there are the Sea Hawk and the Chickasaw." When Veronica looks at him questioningly, he just shrugs, taking a left, driving past the latter aircraft. "Don't ask me what they do, I only just worked out which one is which."

She gives a small chuckle. "That's more than I know about them."

"Okay, more aircraft coming up on the left." He points to another helicopter and two planes. "The helicopter is another Seahawk, and then the first plane is a C-2 Greyhound and the other is a T-45 Goshawk."

Veronica nods, trying to look suitably impressed, though she's pretty clueless about aircraft.

Logan continues driving along the road, passing a number of aircraft hangers and buildings, and Veronica can even make out a few planes and helicopters sitting out on the concrete. _This is so surreal._ Finally, he pulls into a small parking lot and cuts the engine. They get out of the car and walk towards yet another Spanish-style building.

"This is the I Bar. It's the official pilots' bar on base," he explains, gesturing to the building. "Civilians are welcome, but there are two rules: One, no hats…" He glances at her head. "I think you'll be fine on that one. And two, don't touch any of the airplanes, or you'll be buying a round for everyone in the bar."

"Airplanes?"

He grins, taking her hand. "You'll see."

Veronica lets him lead her inside, her stomach churning with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. The moment she walks through the door into the dark, crowded space, she understands what he meant about the airplanes. Hanging from the ceiling are dozens of model planes, interspersed with all kinds of squadron memorabilia and hundreds of beer mugs, all white and all with stickers and names printed on them.

"What's with the mugs?" she asks, rising up on her toes so Logan can hear her over the noise of the bar.

"Oh." He glances up. "Each pilot stationed here has their own personal mug, with their squadron crest and call sign on it."

"Which one's yours?"

"It's over there." He jerks his head toward the other side of the horseshoe-shaped bar. "Come on."

They weave their way through the crowd of people and over to the bar counter. Logan stops, reaching up and grabbing one of the mugs.

"Here." He hands it to her.

She takes it, turning it round to inspect the squadron crest and the name beneath it. Her eyes widen and she looks up at him.

"Mouth?!"

"Yeah." He grins. "My call sign."

She presses her lips together to stop the laugh that she can feel bubbling up inside her. "Do I even want to know where that came from?"

"Probably not." He winks, trapping his tongue between his teeth playfully.

"It's really not as dirty as you might think," a new voice interrupts from behind her. "Right, Mouth?"

Veronica spins around to find a tall, tanned man with dark hair and blue eyes standing in front of her.

"Hi, I'm Chaos. Also known as Tim." He glances behind her at Logan. "I'm guessing you're Veronica?"

He holds out his hand to her.

"That's me," she confirms, shaking his hand. She recognises his name from Logan's story about how he learned to cook.

"Hey, man," greets Logan, stepping forward giving the man a quick hug and pat on the back.

"Glad you're back, dude." Tim says sincerely. "We all knew you didn't do it."

Logan nods and smiles down at Veronica, sliding an arm around her waist. "Thank this one. She figured out who did."

Tim raises his eyebrows, looking impressed. "Well, then, thank you, Veronica. Can I buy you a drink? I know this one is on the soft drinks, but how about a beer, or a glass of wine?"

"I'll have a Corona, thanks," she says, handing Tim the beer mug for Logan's drink.

Tim turns to the bar and orders the drinks, while Logan steers Veronica over to an empty high table in the corner. He helps her up onto one of the tall stools, making a teasing comment about being short, then stands beside her, leaning his forearms on the table.

"Tim seems nice." She leans in so he can hear her, and the scent of his aftershave invades her senses. It's warm and welcoming.

"Yeah, he's a great guy."

"Okay, here we are." Tim reappears, carrying a bottle of Corona and two beer mugs. "Corona for you, Veronica, and boring-ass Coke for Mouth."

"Thanks." She takes the drink from him. "So, do I get to hear the stories behind the call signs then?"

"Maybe later," mutters Logan, lifting his mug to his lips.

"Mouth, good to see you back, man."

A hand claps onto Logan's shoulder and Veronica spots a dark-skinned Filipino man standing just behind him, a beer in his hand.

Logan turns, a wide grin on his face as he gives the newcomer a one-armed hug. "Bilbo, how's it hangin'?"

"Yeah, good, man," Bilbo replies. "You ready to ship out? Less than five days now."

Veronica can see Logan's eyes flick towards her for a moment, and she feels something twist in her gut. Other than that one conversation out on the deck of the beach house the other day, they've avoided talking about what's going to happen when he leaves. It's not denial, exactly, she doesn't think, more that they've been trying to just live in the moment and not think about it.

"No. Not at all," he says, his smile slightly tight.

Veronica leans forward on the stool, holds out her hand. "Hi, I'm Veronica. Nice to meet you."

"Veronica, huh?" Bilbo shakes her hand, shooting Logan a knowing grin. "Likewise. Mouth here has told me a lot about you."

"Has he now?" She glances at Logan again, expecting him to guiltily avoid her gaze, but he just smiles at her. "Good things, I hope."

"Of course." The man smiles winningly, showing off his boyish good looks.

Bilbo releases her hand and moves to the other side of the table next to Tim, as conversation turns to the latest happenings in the world of naval aviation. Any other time, Veronica would probably find the topic boring, but this is Logan's world now, this is his career, and she's quickly becoming fascinated by it, soaking up every detail eagerly.

"Okay, okay, get this," says Tim, an hour later, his voice slightly slurred.

The alcohol is flowing freely—with the exception of Logan's drinks—and Veronica's already close to the end of her third beer.

"Apparently there's this RAF fighter squadron stationed in the South Atlantic who seem to think _they're_ Top Gun."

"What the hell?" Bilbo stops, his beer halfway to his mouth. "Top Guns are fucking US Navy, not pansy-assed British Air Force."

"I'm serious; I heard it from a buddy of mine stationed in England. This squadron, right, they have this bar in the officer's accommodation block that they call The Goose." Logan snorts at that and Veronica hides a smile at his reaction. "Apparently it was listed in GQ magazine as one of the most exclusive bars in the world."

"Seriously?" Logan looks incredulous. "Why the hell is a squadron bar in GQ magazine? What makes it so exclusive anyway?"

"These British flyboys, I'm tellin' ya." Tim rolls his eyes. "Think they're all that. God knows how it made it into GQ, but apparently it's so exclusive because in order to get into it, you have to…" He starts counting on his fingers. "a) be living on the remote island where the base is located, b) be a member of the officer's mess, c) personally know one of the four fighter pilots stationed there and d) get an invite to the bar from one of said pilots."

"That's fucked up." Bilbo scoffs. "Who do they think they are?"

Veronica exchanges a glance with Logan, and she can't help but chuckle at the outrage on Bilbo's face.

"And get this: there's even a pole in the bar and whoever can get all the way to the top, then turn and plant their ass on the ceiling, has to sign their name on it." Tim scoffs. "Apparently it's very popular with the female contingent on base."

"I'll bet," mutters Logan into his Coke.

"Man, we need something like that on the ship."

"Yeah, like that would ever get approval." Logan rolls his eyes.

"You never know." Bilbo shrugs. "I say we give it a shot."

"Yeah, I'm out," says Logan, putting his hands up, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I'm not tempting fate. But feel free."

Veronica smirks into her beer bottle, lifting it to her lips and draining the last of the drink. She places it back on the table, then hops off her stool.

"Could one of you fine officers point a lady towards the restroom?"

"Sure," says Tim, leaning closer as he points across the room. "Just down the corridor over here. It's the first door on the left."

"Thanks." She nods gratefully.

As she reaches for her purse, she feels Logan's fingers wrap around hers and she turns to him with a quick nod and a smile, before slipping her fingers from his grasp and easing her way through the crowd. She finds the ladies bathroom easily and quickly uses the facilities, before stopping in front of the large mirror above the sinks to check her appearance. She's feeling the effects of the alcohol now and it seems her body is showing the evidence; her cheeks are flushed pink and her pupils look a little dilated. She runs her fingers through her hair, straightens her top and leaves the bathroom.

As she heads back toward the bar, a hand tugs at her wrist and she finds herself pressed up against the wall of the corridor, Logan grinning down at her.

"Hi."

"Hi," she replies. "What are you doing back here?"

"Hitting the head. You?" When she simply raises an eyebrow, he relents. "Fine. It's getting late. You feel like getting out of here?"

She's surprised. "You're not enjoying your time with the guys?"

He shrugs. "I'm going to be spending the next six months stuck in the middle of the ocean with them. Right now, I'd rather spend time with you."

She feels a tug in her chest at that, a combination of gratefulness and trepidation. He leaves in less than five days. They have less than five days left to spend together.

"Okay. Let's go."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, flyboy." She resists the urge to roll her eyes when he seems to hesitate, as if he was expecting her to want to stay. She tries not to smirk as she wraps her arms around his neck and adds dramatically, "Take me to bed, Logan, or lose me forever."

"With pleasure." He grins, kissing her lightly before stepping back and taking her hand in his.

They move through the bar, back over to where Bilbo and Tim are deep in conversation, and say their goodbyes, then head outside to the car, Logan walking just behind Veronica with his arm around her waist. She can't help but watch Logan with a lazy smile as he drives back to the condo, the beer making her feel relaxed and just a little off-kilter.

"You okay?" he asks when he notices her gaze on him.

"Yep."

He studies her for as long as he can before he has to look at the road again, giving a soft chuckle. "Good."

When Logan pulls into the driveway of the condo, he hops out of the car and opens Veronica's door before she even registers that they've stopped moving.

"Thanks." She takes his proffered hand, stumbling slightly as she climbs out of the car.

"Woah, hey." His arms come around her, steadying her quickly. "No more beer for you."

She scoffs as they head toward the condo. "Like you have any anyway."

"Good point." He huffs a laugh, opening the front door and gesturing for her to step inside.

Veronica pulls off her boots, then heads for the bedroom, pulling her toiletries and something to sleep in from her bag. Clutching them to her chest, she turns to find Logan standing in the bedroom doorway, hands in his pockets, one foot crossed over the other, a lopsided smile gracing his lips. When she moves past him on her way to the bathroom, his hand slips from his pocket, his fingers reaching out and entwining with hers. She stops, looking up at him. His gaze is soft and warm, and it sends a thrill through her. His other hand comes up to cup her jaw and he lowers his head, his kiss slow and sensual.

Her breath catches in her throat. The feel of his mouth on hers, his thumb gently stroking her cheek and his fingers squeezing around hers, is making her head spin, but Veronica is all too aware of the fact that her stance is awkward, the toiletry bag and her sleep shirt, trapped uncomfortably between them, pressing into his abdomen. She breaks the kiss, pulling back so that her forehead rests against his.

"I need to go… in there." She nods to the bathroom.

"No. Stay," he whispers, kissing her again.

"I have to, Logan." She says regretfully, doing her best to look as serious as possible. "I really, _really_ need to pee."

"Oh." He pulls back, releasing her fingers with a quick chuckle. "Sorry. Go."

"I'll be back in a minute."

She ducks into the bathroom, uses the facilities, then gets changed into the shirt brushes her teeth and washes off her make-up as quickly as she can. When she returns to the bedroom, Logan is standing by the bed in just a pair of boxer-briefs, looking focused as he fiddles with his phone for a moment before placing it on the bedside table. Veronica lets her eyes roam over his defined form as she pads over to the bed and pulls back the covers. Logan holds up a finger in a 'one minute' signal and heads for the bathroom himself.

While she waits for him, Veronica slips under the covers, relaxing into the soft mattress. It's so much more comfortable than the makeshift bed in the beach house and the pull-out at her dad's. She smiles contentedly, snuggling into the cotton sheets, her eyes sliding closed. When Logan reappears, sliding under the sheets beside her, she's already on the verge of slumber. She hears him chuckle breathily and she pries her eyes open. He's watching her with a soft smile, his head propped up on his hand.

"Where were we?" She shifts closer, reaching for him, but he just catches her hand in his and brings it down to her side.

"You can barely keep your eyes open." He shakes his head, running his fingers along her hairline. "Let's just sleep, okay?"

She nods tiredly, turning onto her side and tugging the soft sheets around her. Behind her, Logan shifts, his arm sliding around her waist as he curls his body around hers. As she drifts off to sleep, she feels his warm breath against her skin, his lips tenderly caressing the exposed skin of her shoulder.


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you for the comments and kudos - I always enjoy reading your thoughts and feedback :).

Note:

The RAF bar mentioned in the previous chapter is a real military bar... though I don't think it was actually named after Top Gun (more likely to have been named after the Geese that are prevalent on the islands). I'm also not convinced it was ever featured in GQ magazine... although that's seems to be the rumour around the base :P.

* * *

 **Chapter Eight**

Logan wakes slowly the next morning, his body curled around Veronica's, nose buried in her hair. The bed is warm, _she's_ warm... and inviting. She's still asleep, he can tell by the evenness of her breathing and the way her body is relaxed against him. He tightens his arm around her waist, fingers lightly grasping the material of her shirt. He feels content, fulfilled, and as amazing a feeling as that is, it also leads to a stark realisation that this is actually the first time in his life he's really felt this way.

Sure, he's thought he was happy before, back during the 'on again' times with Lilly, during the short periods when things were good with Veronica, even for a time with Carrie, but even then, those relationships were tainted by darkness and tragedy. Over the years there have been a couple of other girls who meant more to him than a casual fling; there was Jessica during senior year at Hearst, and Penny when he was living in Texas for advanced flight training after Pensacola, but even they have nothing on the way things have been with Veronica the last couple of weeks. They aren't the same people they were nine years ago… well, they are, but they've grown up, a lot; and he really hopes that they're strong enough, mature enough now to make it work this time around.

When he picked up the phone and called her that day —after hours of debate, of getting as far as hovering his thumb over her number in his phone, but never actually calling—he told himself it was just business, just a friend helping out a friend. He repeated it over and over in his mind like a mantra, while he waited anxiously for her at the airport, but the moment she stepped off that plane, the moment he saw her, he knew he was lying to himself. Just one glimpse of her and it all came flooding back, his good intentions flying out of the window. Over the following few days, he tried so hard to keep his distance and not think of her as anything but a friend, but that old pull, that old attraction, was still there, strong and undeniable.

In the end, it was she who made the first move. He'd gotten so close to leaving the night of her father's accident, to following through on his decision to stay away from her, even though he was aching to pull her into his arms and comfort her, but the moment she appeared in front of him in that t-shirt, her legs bare, her eyes fearful and desperate, he knew he couldn't keep up the pretence any longer.

Eyes still closed, he shifts even closer to her, hand slipping beneath her shirt. He flattens his palm against her warm skin for a moment, before trailing his fingers up over her torso and palming the soft, supple flesh of her breast. Sliding his thumb across her nipple, he feels it harden in response. He smiles into her hair when she lets out a soft sigh and snuggles back into him, her bottom pressing tantalisingly against his rapidly hardening length.

He's going to miss this, so much. He's going to miss _her_. More than he can put into words.

These last couple of weeks have been absolutely incredible; he never thought he would have the chance to be with her like this again and he wishes to God he didn't have to leave so soon. They haven't really talked about it, about what's going to happen when he has to go, about where this new relationship of theirs is going and how they're going to survive the next six months apart. Now that she's back in his life, he can't imagine ever letting her go again. She's said she wants to make it work too, but he doesn't really know what she's expecting from him, from them, over the next few months.

For the last week, he's been content to simply push his impending departure to the back of his mind, deliberately avoiding the subject, and he can tell Veronica has been doing the same. But they can't ignore it much longer; they only have four days left.

When she shifts again, Logan opens his eyes, moving his free arm, which is resting above her head on the pillow, so that he can prop himself up on his elbow. Her eyes are still closed, her breathing even, but he can't resist lowering his mouth to her skin, kissing the sensitive spot between her jaw and her ear. He shifts so that his knee slides between her legs, as his fingers slide across her breast, kneading gently.

"Mmm." She sighs and Logan can see her eyelids flickering as she stirs. Her voice is throaty and thick with sleep when she mumbles, "Feels good."

He presses another kiss to her jaw, before murmuring, "Morning."

"Mornin'"

A soft smile plays on her lips and she turns her head towards him, eyes still closed, lifting her chin in invitation. He obliges, pressing his mouth to hers, then he shifts, slipping his hand from her shirt, and she turns over to face him, snuggling close. He runs his fingers through her hair and her eyes flutter open slowly. Her normally bright blue eyes are dark, pupils dilated with a combination of sleep and lust.

"Hey," she whispers.

"Hi."

He goes to kiss her again, but she pulls back, holding a hand up to her mouth.

"No, don't." When he frowns in question, she adds quickly, "Morning breath."

"Oh." He grins lazily. "You didn't seem to mind just now."

"I was barely awake." She smiles sheepishly. "But for now, no more kissing until teeth have been brushed."

"I think you mean no more kissing on the mouth," he corrects, flashing another grin before dipping his head and pressing his lips to her neck.

He feels her hand come up to rest on the back of his neck. "Uh, yeah… that's what I meant."

She lets him drop gentle kisses to her warm skin for a few long moments, before she pushes at his chest, urging him onto his back. She straddles his hips, then, with a wicked look in her eye, catches his wrists in her hands and holds them down into the pillow either side of his head. He raises a questioning eyebrow, but doesn't say anything, just lets the corner of his mouth hitch up in a half-smirk. Veronica smiles indulgently, then lowers her mouth to his neck, mimicking his caresses, before kissing a trail along his collarbone and down over his chest, her hands still holding his wrists against the pillow.

He sighs in contentment as her talented mouth kisses a path from his chest down to his stomach… and lower still. When she having to stretch, her grasp on his wrists loosens and she slides her hands slowly down over his torso. He sucks in a sharp breath when her fingers dip inside his boxers and she wraps her hand around him, stroking deliciously, sending sparks of arousal shooting through him.

 _God_ , _how the fuck am I going to live without this for six whole months?_

* * *

"Okay," says Logan early that afternoon as they pull up outside a non-descript building on the base. "This is it."

Veronica glances around, realising that the building across the street looks familiar. She gestures towards it. "That's where we were last night, right?"

"Yeah, that's the bar over there." Logan nods, reaching for his door handle. "And our temporary squadron headquarters are in here. Come on, I'll show you inside."

She climbs out of the car, moving round to the front to join him. Logan holds out his hand to her and she takes it, exchanging a smile with him as he leads her to the entrance of the building. He opens the door and gestures for her to enter. She steps inside the building, finding herself in a long corridor with dozens of photos and squadron plaques hanging on the walls. As they walk, she looks at them all with interest.

"This is normally a multi-engine squadron building," he says, gesturing to the walls. "We're only here temporarily—hence the lack of any fast jet memorabilia on the walls."

"Multi-engine?" she asks. "As opposed to what?"

"So, uh, when we go through flight school, we get assigned to a certain flight training path depending on our skills. Some pilots are assigned to the larger, multi-engine aircraft, like surveillance planes or transport aircraft," says Logan. "Others are sent to rotary—that's the helicopters—and other to advanced strike, which is the fighter jets. This squadron is usually home to the C-2 Greyhound, which is a multi-engine that carries passengers and supplies."

"Oh, okay." She nods, taking in the run-down looking rooms and hallways. "The building… it, uh, it's not quite what I was expecting."

She would have thought a US navy squadron would be high-tech and modern, but this looks more like something out of the 1960s.

"What were you expecting?" he asks curiously.

"I don't know, really." She shrugs. "I thought it would be more up to date."

Logan snorts. "Welcome to the military. They'll pay $60 million for each of our jets, but a lick of paint and a refurb of squadron headquarters is not in the budget."

"You fly a $60 million plane?" Veronica's eyes widen as she turns to him. _Shit, seriously?_

"Yep." He wiggles his eyebrows, looking smug. "Impressed?"

 _Yes._

"No." Veronica denies quickly, turning her attention to the décor on the walls again, so he can't see her expression. Beside her, she can see him shaking his head in amusement.

"In here." Logan gestures to a door on the left, the wooden sign on it claiming it to be the 'Crew Room'.

The crew room isn't empty; there are a few guys in workman-style outfits milling around inside, two of them drinking coffee over in the corner, where a small kitchen area is set up, and another two men lounge in La-Z-Boys across the room, flicking through channels on the large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall.

One of the men in front of the TV, a young Hispanic guy, sits up straight when he sees Logan. "Sir, wasn't expecting you in today."

"Don't mind us, guys." Logan gestures dismissively with his free hand, the fingers of his other hand tightening around hers. "We're just taking a look around."

He turns to her. "Veronica, meet some of our ground crew: Lopez and Mitchell"—he gestures to the guys on the La-Z-Boys—"and Mason and Garcia." He nods towards the other two in the kitchen. "They take care of all the aircraft maintenance and make sure the jets can actually fly. Guys, this is Veronica."

They greet her with a combination of 'heys' and nods, and she smiles in return, feeling a little out of place as she gives a quick, awkward wave.

"Hi. Nice to meet you."

"I'm going to show her the jet," says Logan then. _He is?_ "That gonna be alright?"

"Not a problem, sir." One of the guys in the kitchen—Mason, she assumes—nods. "We've got a couple others under maintenance, but 110 is free."

"Great." Logan flashes him a grin. To her he says, "So, wanna go see my plane?"

"Sure." She smiles, trying to seem nonchalant, even though she's secretly excited.

He turns to usher her out of the room, when the other guy over by the kitchen—who she guesses is Garcia—speaks up.

"Sir? Since you're here, you think you could take 112 up for a flight test for us?" he asks. "We've fixed the fuel light serviceability issue, but it needs to go up for a check."

"Sure, no problem." Logan grins, and Veronica can't help but notice the way his eyes light up in response. "Do we have flight clearance?"

"Not yet," says Garcia. "We just have to get approval from Ops and ATC first. Barring no issues, you should be good to go in a couple of hours."

"Okay, great. Keep me posted." He flashes another smile, before looking down at her. "Come on. Let's go."

After they leave the crew room, Logan stops in the hallway and turns to her with a wide grin. "Sounds like you'll get to see me fly today."

"Can't wait." She can't help but return the grin, his enthusiasm contagious. "But most of that went over my head back there. What's going on?"

"Oh, so, uh, one of the jets has been having some problems with its fuel indicator light. It hasn't been coming on properly, which means the pilot doesn't know how much fuel he has left," he explains. "It's been fixed, but it has to be tested in the air to make sure it's working okay."

"And the Ops and ATC stuff?"

He shrugs. "We can't just take off whenever we feel like it. All the flights have to be approved by station operations and coordinated with air traffic control so there aren't any conflicts."

She nods, the jargon making a little more sense now.

"Before we head outside, I should go change into my flight suit."

"Flight suit?"

 _Flight suit, seriously? Are you_ trying _to kill me, Logan?_

"Well, I can't go flying in jeans." He smirks.

"No, I guess you can't."

They walk further down the corridor and into a room filled with lockers and benches. Logan opens one of the lockers and Veronica looks around the room, obviously a changing room, feeling a little awkward.

"Is it okay that I'm in here?"

"It's fine." Logan shrugs, tugging off his shirt and pulling a white t-shirt on over his head. "There's no one else around anyway."

He toes off his shoes, then unzips the aforementioned jeans and pulls them off, reaching into the locker and retrieving a green flight suit. Veronica watches with appreciation as he steps into it, pulls it on and zips it up. He sits down on the bench and pulls on a pair of long, thick socks and black, steel-toed boots, deftly lacing them. When he finally stands, Veronica can't help but step toward him, reaching up to trace her fingers over the nametag on his chest.

" _Mouth_." She smiles. "Still need the backstory there."

"It's really not that interesting," he says dismissively.

She just looks up at him expectantly until he sighs.

"Okay, fine." He relents, looking skyward for a moment. "Let's just say that when I first joined up, I had a little trouble taking orders."

Veronica can't suppress her smile. She can just imagine how difficult it must have been for him to keep his cool, not snark back, when someone was barking orders at him.

"There was one particular incident during OCS when I'd had a really bad day—I was itching for a drink and struggling to keep it together—and my DI—"

"DI?"

"Drill Instructor," he clarifies. "My DI just wouldn't stop yelling at me. He was getting right in my face, shouting like crazy, saying the same crap over and over, and eventually I couldn't take it anymore. I snapped, yelled right back at him. Even slipped in some choice words that were definitely ill-advised."

"Ouch."

"Yeah." He nods, looking pained. "Rule number one: you never talk back, no matter how tempting it is. I was given suitable punishment, made sure never to do it again, but after that, I was known as the stupid Indoc who mouthed off to the DI." At her questioning look, he adds, "Uh, Indoctrination Candidate, it's the first phase of OCS training."

"Ah… hence, Mouth."

"Yeah." He nods. "I wasn't even a pilot yet, but nicknames follow you around in the navy and I hadn't been at Pensacola a week before everyone was calling me that… guess it stuck when it came to assigning call signs."

"It's fitting," muses Veronica. "You've always had a certain way with words."

"Yeah." He snorts softly.

She runs her hands down over his chest. "So, this is what you wear when you're flying."

"Yeah… well, this is just the first layer," he says, stepping back and opening his locker wider to show a variety of other uniform and equipment, pointing to each one in turn. "On top of this goes the g-suit, parachute harness, survival vest, life preserver, gloves and helmet."

"Wow." She blinks. "How do you even move in all of that?"

"It's not the most comfortable," he agrees. "But hot and uncomfortable is preferable to unsafe and dangerous."

"Yeah." Veronica swallows. In all the excitement over Logan in uniform and the prospect of his cool plane, the reality of how dangerous his profession is hasn't really sunk in yet.

Leaving the rest to put on later, they go back into the crew room where Garcia informs Logan that both Ops and ATC have approved the flight test and then hands him some paperwork. Logan nods, accepting it, then walks over to the computer screen and phone in the corner of the room. Veronica just watches as he works, planning out his flight route and timings. After a few minutes, he clicks on a few keys and opens a link in the browser window, bringing up a Powerpoint presentation. Picking up the phone, he dials a number.

"This is Lt. Echolls with Victor Foxtrot Alpha One-Five-Four. I've been cleared for a test flight this afternoon; can I get some Met?" He listens for a moment. "Yeah, take-off 1500 local, that's 2300 Zulu, landing 2345 Zulu. Local area sortie, initially flight level zero-five-zero, then climbing to one-five-zero about ten miles off the coast for approximately 20 minutes, before coming back in low-level at about 1000 feet for the last 15 minutes. I need general conditions and winds."

The person on the other end speaks and Logan simply nods a few times, clicking though the slides on the screen. They appear to show weather charts, though Veronica only recognises the one that shows pressure bars and weather fronts. The rest are a confusing combination of arrows, squiggles and lines of undecipherable coded sentences.

"Okay, so from the TAF, I'm looking at wind two-nine-zero at 12 knots, vis more than six statute miles and few at three-thousand feet?" he asks, looking at one of the coded lines on the screen. "Any change expected in the next couple hours? Okay, great. And the winds aloft?" Logan scribbles something down on the paperwork Garcia handed to him. "No, no that's perfect. Thanks."

 _Okay, so that made absolutely no sense at all._

Veronica can only stand back and observe Logan at work. It's so strange, seeing him in his professional surroundings. He has all this knowledge and training that is completely foreign to her and she's finding it hard to reconcile this new, adult, career-driven Logan with the insolent boy she grew up with.

"Sorry about that." Logan apologises, hanging up the phone and turning to her. "Had to get some of the prep out of the way first." He frowns then. "You okay?"

"Yeah… just, that was a foreign language, right? 'Cos I didn't understand a word of it."

"Sorry, sometimes I forget." He gestures for her to step closer and she joins him next to the computer screen. "Okay, so an integral part of the flight planning process is the weather brief—I have to make sure that the conditions outside are suitable for take-off and landing, and that I will be able to carry out whatever tasks I need to in the air."

"Okay." She nods, watching as he scrolls through a couple of the slides on the screen, his free hand slipping around her waist, urging her closer.

"The jet has minimum weather limits for take-off and landing, of which the main concerns are wind speed and direction, visibility and cloud base. If they aren't within limits, we can't fly," he explains. "And in the air, we might need particular conditions at certain heights, like clear gaps between cloud layers for air-to-air refuelling, or being able to see the ground, so knowing where the cloud is and if there is any bad weather coming helps us plans what we can do."

"That makes sense." Veronica nods again. "So what's this?"

She points to the slide he's stopped on, which shows those weird lines of code from earlier.

"Ah, yes, those are called METARs and TAFs. The former a coded report of the current weather outside," he explains. "And the latter is a 24-hour forecast for the airfield. All of them are issued in GMT time—also called Zulu—so I have to adjust for the time here in California, or wherever I am. I guess they do that so they are consistent, since they are issued for every airfield and airport in the world."

"And why are they coded like that? Can't they just write them out in sentences?"

Logan shrugs, giving a wry smile. "Who knows. It would be easier; I had to attend a whole class dedicated to learning how to read and decode them."

"I'll bet." Veronica mutters, before leaning across him slightly to get a better view of the map in front of him. "So this is your, uh… flight plan?"

"Yeah." He nods, pointing to the lines and annotations drawn on it. "This is the route I'll fly, with my timing, coordinates and distances."

She nods, though she can barely even figure out what the map is showing.

"Well, this is pretty much all I can do for now, so we'll head outside and I'll show you the jet."

Veronica follows him out of the squadron building and onto the large concrete area just outside—the apron, Logan tells her—where several grey aircraft are parked in a row.

"So, this is what I fly," he announces proudly, making a sweeping hand gesture toward the planes. "The F/A-18F Super Hornet."

"Really?" _He seriously flies these tiny things?_ "They're so small."

He winks cheekily. "But, oh so powerful."

"Of course they are."

"Come on, I'll show you mine."

"How is it you manage to make everything you say sound like sexual innuendo?"

He grins, trapping his tongue between his teeth. "Guess I'm just gifted that way."

He motions her over to one of the jets in the middle of the row, canopy already open and a set of metal steps leading up to the cockpit. There are a couple of ground crew working nearby and Logan nods toward them, checking that it's okay for him to access the jet.

"After you." He gestures for her to climb the steps and as she does, grasping onto the metal rails for support, she decides she's glad she's wearing flats today.

Logan follows, stopping just behind her when she reaches the last couple of steps, and she can feel his chest pressing against her back.

"So, this is my seat, and my wizzo sits back there," Logan says, indicating the second seat. At her confused expression, he clarifies. "WSO. Weapon Systems Officer."

She glances around the cockpit, her eyes widening at the complicated array of buttons and switches before her.

"Wow."

 _How on Earth does he know what they all do?_

"You wanna sit in it?"

"I can do that?" She turns to him in surprise. "It's not against the rules or anything?"

"Of course you can." He smiles warmly. "Here."

He holds out his hand, helps her up the last couple of steps and into the seat. Despite her small size, there's not much room, and she has to angle her leg just right to avoid knocking the control stick in the middle. Logan leans on the edge of the cockpit, reaching out a hand to point to the various controls.

"Okay, so this screen here…" He indicates the transparent screen above the main controls. "… is the HUD—Head Up Display. The flight data is projected on here, so we can see it while we're looking out of the windscreen instead of having to look down at the controls. It shows vital information like the altitude, bearing and speed."

He leans forward a little more, his head close to hers.

"These dials to your right indicate the speed and altitude, then the ones on the left show the engine and fuel status." He points to another small screen near her legs. "This screen has colour maps and radar so we can track our position."

"Geez, how many buttons do you need in one plane?" she jokes, her eyes roaming over the dozens and dozens of switches and knobs. "They trying to compensate for something?"

"Very funny," he replies dryly.

He explains the function of a few of the buttons, then takes her hand and places it on the control stick between her knees, wrapping her fingers around it.

"Okay, so you move the stick backward to go up, forward to go down and to the left and right for turning." He slides her thumb to another switch on the side of the stick. "This one is the weapon selector switch, and then the other button up here is the weapon release."

She swallows uneasily. _Logan flies a plane that shoots weapons. Weapons that kill people._

"What kind of weapons?"

He gives a half-shrug. "Usually air-to-air and air-to-surface missiles, though we can carry bombs as well."

She nods slowly, not looking at him, her eyes fixed on the controls as she asks, "Do you, uh, have to release weapons often?"

Logan stills, glancing at her cautiously. "Sometimes."

"Oh."

"Only when I absolutely have to," he assures her. "And only when the enemy has been surveilled, identified and locked onto. Civilians are never targeted and casualties are kept to an absolute minimum whenever possible."

"Yeah, I know," she says. "It's just… you hear things on the news…"

"Well, you know as well as anyone how the press can exaggerate," he says, a touch of sarcasm in his tone. "Look, Veronica, we don't take unnecessary risks and we gather as much intel as possible before making any decisions."

"Yeah, I know." She looks at him fully now. "I know you do, Logan. It's just… all this"—she gestures around the cockpit—"It's a little overwhelming."

He nods. "I get that."

She feels the beginning of a lump forming in her throat and swallows it down quickly, refusing to let her emotions interfere right now. Seeing Logan's jet up close, knowing what it's capable of, is highlighting exactly how dangerous his job is. He puts himself in danger every day out there.

It's bad enough that he's going to be halfway around the world for the next six months, but now she's got war zones and missiles and bombs to worry about. There's a very real possibility that he could get hurt—or worse—while he's gone and she doesn't know what she would do if that happened.

"So, that's my plane," he says then, holding out a hand to her. She takes it and he helps her out of the cockpit.

"It's pretty cool." She forces a smile onto her face as they descend the steps.

"I should go get ready to take out 110." He nods toward the jet two slots down, its canopy up, an engineer checking it over.

"Okay."

Two hours later, Veronica finds herself standing on the roof of the building with Garcia, watching Logan taxiing out in the jet. Five minutes after that, he's hurtling down the runway at breakneck speed, the noise of the jet deafening as it lifts off the ground.

It's so surreal to see him actually flying it. Earlier, she watched as he suited up, pulling on the g-suit and harness and helmet. She observed him walk out to the plane, saw him get in and close the canopy. She knows that's him up there in the sky, but somehow it still doesn't quite seem real.

The plane flies overhead, then circles the airfield a couple of times, before climbing much higher and taking off over the ocean.

"He'll be back in twenty minutes," Garcia informs her. "He's going to do some manoeuvres out over the water."

"So, what's he actually doing with the plane?" she asks. "Most of this stuff has gone right over my head."

Garcia chuckles. "Yeah, it's like a foreign language, huh? My wife was the same when she saw it all for the first time."

He starts making hand gestures, indicating towards the sky.

"Okay, so he started off at an altitude of about 5,000 feet and did a couple of circuits at that height, then climbed to about 15,000 feet and headed out over the water, to burn some fuel and test the instruments. When he's done, he'll head back over here and drop to low level, maybe 1,000 feet off the ground." Garcia grins at her then. "Probably do a bit of showing off for you."

"Yeah?" Veronica can't help but smile back, a bubble of excitement building in her chest.

While they wait for Logan to return, Garcia tells her more about the squadron, the jets and their deployment preparations. Although he won't—well, can't—tell her much about the actual deployment, he gives her as much detail as he can, and she's grateful for that.

After what seems like forever she finally spots Logan's jet heading towards the airfield again.

"Cover your ears," warns Garcia.

Veronica complies and a few seconds later, the jet drops down low, the noise deafening at it flies directly overhead at high speed. It's like that scene in Top Gun when Maverick flies past the control tower at top speed, rattling the windows and spilling coffee everywhere.

The jet turns the corner, then the nose tips upwards and it shoots vertically up into the air, higher and higher, the dark metal stark against the deep blue sky and puffy white clouds, then it tilts sideways and tips out, swooping down towards the ground and turning until it's upside down. It remains that way for a few seconds before twisting again and straightening up, then smoothly tilting to the other side in almost a complete turn.

Veronica's heart is pounding as she watches him, a combination of excitement and anxiousness coursing through her. That's _Logan_ up there, doing 270-degree turns in a fighter jet. It doesn't seem real.

A few minutes later, Logan brings the aircraft in to land and Garcia takes her back downstairs so she can wait by the apron for him. She's practically bouncing on her toes as the plane comes to a stop and she waits for him to climb out. Eventually, the canopy rises and she can see him shifting in the cockpit, unfastening harnesses and doing whatever else he has to do at the end of the flight.

When he finally climbs down the steps and starts walking across the concrete, helmet in one hand, she can't keep still and starts heading toward him with a wide smile. When he spots her, she quickens her pace.

"Hey," he greets, giving a half-chuckle and stumbling slightly when she practically slams into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

"That was incredible!" she exclaims, rising up to kiss him as his free hand comes around her, flattening against her back.

"Yeah?" He gives a lopsided grin, looking down at her. She tucks herself against his side, sliding her arm around his waist from behind and they start walking toward the building.

"In my head, I knew you flew planes," she says. "But actually seeing it…it's something else."

"So I take it you're suitably impressed?"

She smiles up at him, her previous concerns forgotten for the moment. "Yeah, I'm impressed."

When they get back inside, Logan sits down with Garcia and the other ground crew members for a debrief, which, Logan tells her, is an analysis of the flight and the performance of the jet. While she waits, Veronica settles in one of the La-Z-Boys and flicks on the TV. By the time they're finished and Logan joins her again, it's almost five pm.

"Sorry about that," he says as she switches off the TV and stands up. "Let me get changed and we'll head out, grab some dinner on the way back."

"No," she finds herself saying quickly and he blinks in confusion. "I mean, yeah, let's go, but do you have to change? I kind of like this whole flight suit get-up you've got going on."

"You do, huh?" His lips curl up in a suggestive smile. "You know, I think I could keep it on a little while longer."

* * *

"So…" Logan sits on the end of the bed, still wearing his flight suit, when they get back to the condo after dinner later that evening. He leans back, hands braced behind him on the mattress.

"So," says Veronica airily, shucking her jacket and straddling his lap, resting her hands on his shoulders to steady herself.

"You have a good time today?"

 _Are you kidding?_

"I had a great time." She grins. "Logan, you fly _planes_."

His eyes dance. "I'm aware."

"I mean, seriously." She still can't quite get her head around it. "You do this incredibly important, _impressive_ job."

"Yeah." he nods, shifting so he's sitting upright and focusing his gaze on her. He reaches out and tucks her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her skin.

"It's just really surreal." She tries to explain it. "I still can't get my head around the fact that it's _you_ up there, you know?"

"Well, if I could, I would take you up in it, but sadly we're not allowed to fly civvies. Plus, you're too small anyway."

"Excuse me?" She tries—and fails—not to sound indignant.

He suppresses a smile. "There's a minimum height and weight limit, because of the ejector seat. I think you'd just about make height requirement, but you need to weigh at least 125 lbs and"—he glances down at her body—"I'm pretty sure you don't."

"Yeah, okay. You're right." She relents with a smile. "And props for correctly assuming that I do not weigh more than 125 lbs."

"I never assume anything negative about a woman's weight," he says seriously. "My mother taught me well."

Veronica expects to see hurt or maybe sorrow in his eyes when he speaks of his mother, but there's no hint of any negative emotion there anymore.

"That she did," she says softly, looping her arms around his neck and lowering her chin.

Sensing her intention, he lifts his head, meets her mouth halfway. As they kiss, she feels his fingers walking up the outside of her thighs, then digging into her hips briefly before sliding round, cupping her butt and pulling her closer to him.

She loosens her arms, letting her hands slide over his shoulders, fingering the upturned collar of his green flight suit. If she thought Logan in navy whites was sexy, him in a flight suit, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, white t-shirt peeking out at the top, is something else. Oddly, it's not the suit itself that she finds so appealing—it's not exactly the most flattering outfit on a lot of people—it's more what it symbolises. It states: 'I'm a badass fighter pilot and I fly a fucking sexy plane."

Her fingers move lower until they find the zipper on the suit, easing it down to his waist. She slips her hands under the material, sliding it over his shoulders, and he tugs his arms out of the sleeves, letting it pool around his waist, before returning his hands to her hips. She pulls back, her hands coming up to the back of his neck, fingers stroking through his short hair.

"What does it feel like, flying the jet, doing all those twists and turns?" she asks curiously.

"It's amazing. Total adrenaline rush," he says with a wide smile, his eyes lighting up as he speaks.

 _He really loves it._

"But it's pretty hard on the body," he admits. "The g-suit helps—it has this air bladder which inflates at the front and pulls tight around the back, so when I'm pulling positive g, it stops the blood pooling in my legs and feet, and keeps it pumping to my heart and brain."

Veronica blinks. _Keeps the blood pumping to his heart, to his brain? Which implies that it might stop pumping without it… No, no, don't think about that, Veronica._

Instead she says, "Positive g?"

He nods. "You know when you're at the bottom of a rollercoaster and you feel yourself being pushed down into the seat? That's positive g. Negative g is the opposite… it's that weightless feeling you get when you're at the top. On a coaster you might experience maybe up to five positive g, which is about what the body can handle."

"And in the jet?"

"Up to nine or ten g," he admits. "The suit increases our resistance to it."

She nods, taking that in. "And what happens if it gets too high, or the suit doesn't work?"

He looks uncomfortable, not meeting her eyes. "Veronica, I don't know if—"

"Tell me." She sets her jaw. She needs to know.

"Okay." He sighs. "If too much g is experienced, at the lower end, you might experience grey-out or tunnel vision, more serious is loss of vision, loss of consciousness, and if the g isn't decreased quickly enough… uh, death."

"God, Logan." Veronica closes her eyes as her chest tightens and she feels tears forming in the corner of her eyes at the thought of him…

"Hey," he says softly, his fingers coming up to trace her jaw. "That's all pretty rare, okay? The suit works well, and we minimise the risks whenever we can."

"Still…"

She's not going to get emotional. She's not. She doesn't want him to think she can't handle knowing this about his job. It seems her efforts are futile however, because his expression softens and she can tell he sees it in her eyes. He slides his hands up over her back, pulling her into a hug. Veronica complies, tightening her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder.

"I know what I'm doing, Veronica," he tells her. "I do this all the time."

"I know." She nods against his t-shirt-clad shoulder. "It's just…"

"It's scary, I get that."

She pulls back then, looking into his eyes earnestly. "I don't know what I'd do if…"

She can't finish the sentence, but he nods anyway. "I know. Me either."

Pressing her forehead to his, her voice is barely above a whisper as she says, "Make love to me?"

He just nods, his eyes boring into hers for a long moment before he leans in and kisses her. Her hands move down over his torso, pulling at the hem of his shirt, sliding under it. Her fingers dance over the warm skin of his stomach for a moment, before she tugs it upwards. He breaks the kiss, helps her pull it over his head, lets it drop to the floor. Veronica takes the opportunity to slip off his lap, standing to unbutton her pants. She can see him watching her intently as she slides them over her hips and steps out of them, leaving her in her panties and white tank top. Logan reaches out, tugs her into his lap again.

His hand moves up over her back to her neck, burying itself in her hair so he can tilt her head and run his lips along her neck. She shivers.

 _He feels so good._

Then his hands move down again, his palms flat against her waist now, the hem of her tank top bunching up as he slides them upwards, his warm, slightly calloused fingers leaving tingles as they brush across her skin. She lifts her arms, allowing him to pull the top up over her head, their hands meeting above her head. He scrunches it up and tosses it to the floor, where it joins his shirt. His hands cradle hers in the air for a moment, then he brings them down, fingers skimming along her arms, goosebumps forming in their wake. She shudders, a tightness forming in her chest and heat pooling between her thighs at the tenderness in his caress.

He kisses her again, sucking on her lower lip for a moment before urging her mouth open with his, and she sinks into the embrace eagerly, hands flat on his shoulder blades. She feels one of his hands come to rest on her waist while the other spreads across the centre of her back, fingers dipping beneath the band of her bra. A soft, urging sigh escapes her lips and he smiles against her mouth, fumbling with the clasp with one hand for a moment, before he unhooks it. Flattening his palm against her skin, his hand slides tantalisingly across her back as he releases first one side of the band, then the other. She shrugs out of the garment, then shifts forward, pressing her bare chest to his, enjoying the feel of skin against skin.

Needing more, needing to feel all of him, she pushes at the flight suit bunched around his waist. "Off."

He nods and she shifts off his lap so he can step out of it. He tilts his chin toward the head of the bed in question and she nods, shimmying out of her panties and then crawling up over the mattress. He moves around the side of the bed and, pulling off his boxers and reaching for protection, he settles onto the mattress, leaning back against the headboard. With a smile, Veronica slides into his lap, her legs wrapping around his waist. They're so close, face-to-face, skin-to-skin, and it's everything she could ever want.

Logan gazes at her intently for a long moment, his hand cupping her jaw, thumb brushing over her cheek. "Veronica…"

He doesn't say anything more; he doesn't have to. His expression and the way he leans in to kiss her again say it all. He's pressing intimately against her, the base of him sliding deliciously against her clit when he shifts very slightly beneath her.

"God…" she murmurs. "So good."

He smiles against her lips and his hands move to cup her bottom, lifting her up and onto him. She sighs contentedly as he fills her and, clinging to him, using his shoulders for leverage, she begins to move. His hands clasp the flesh of her ass, helping her, guiding her towards climax.

 _I need him. So much. How am I going to live without him, without this, for six months?_

Later, when Logan is fast asleep and Veronica is curled up against his side, still wide-awake, she remembers everything he's told her today, everything she's seen, and she feels all the worry and fear she was trying to suppress come flooding back.

Logan's leaving. In approximately 84 hours, he's going off to fly jets over war zones; he'll experience dangerous g-forces; he'll fire missiles, he'll drop bombs; he'll probably get shot at himself.

He's going to be in danger, and she'll be left here, alone and unable to help him.

It's not fair.

She can't help it; the emotions come to the surface, bubble over, and she has to hold a hand to her mouth as she begins to sob. Her chest is tight and she's struggling to breathe, but she's helpless to stop it. She snuggles into his side and cries, letting it all out as quietly as she can so she doesn't wake him. She's just grateful that Logan is a sound sleeper.

 _You're in deep, Veronica. You've gotten too invested. There's no turning back now, no matter how much it hurts._


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:**

Thank you so much for all your lovely comments - they really make my day :).

I've been trying to keep up with my regular Tuesday updates, but I've been really busy lately and haven't had much time for writing, plus I'm going to Italy next week for 10 days, so it may be a couple of weeks before I can post chapter 10.

* * *

 **Chapter Nine**

Logan turns over, blinking sleepily and frowning when he realises the other side of the bed is empty, no sign of Veronica. Running a hand across his face and squinting at the early morning sunlight filtering in through the blinds of the condo, he props himself up on one elbow.

"Veronica?"

He's met with silence. _Where is she?_ He pulls back the sheet and, snagging his boxers and pulling them on, slips out of the bed in search of her. She's not in the bathroom—the door is open—and there's no sign of her in the living room or kitchen, no evidence that she's made coffee or eaten breakfast.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, he shuffles over to the coffee machine and turns it on. He's standing in the kitchen, tapping his fingers on the countertop while he waits for the coffee to brew when she walks through the front door, dressed in a tank top, track pants and sneakers.

"Morning," he greets.

"Hey." She gives a small smile then turns back to the door to close it.

"Where'd you go?"

"Just along the beach."

Making his way around the island in the centre of the kitchen, he stops in front of her.

"Are you okay?" She avoids his gaze, looking down at her hands. "Veronica?"

Logan reaches out, lifts her chin with his finger so she's looking at him. She looks… not so good, her eyes bloodshot, dark circles underneath. "You look tired."

She shrugs, her lips barely quirking into a smile. "Yeah, I didn't sleep well."

"Everything okay?" he asks urgently. "It's not your father, is it?"

She shakes her head quickly. "No, he's fine. I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." She nods. "I'm gonna take a shower."

She tilts her chin toward the bathroom, then rises up and kisses him quickly, before stepping past him and into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her. Logan stares after her, his gaze remaining fixed on the door for a long moment after it has closed. Something isn't right. He can't put his finger on it, but she's not acting like her usual self this morning.

He frowns. Everything was fine last night, better than fine even, considering she asked him to make love to her. They've been avoiding calling it that, even though he's sure that's exactly what they've been doing. It's just that _making love_ implies intimacy and love and all these deep feelings that should be too early for them to define just yet.

Feeling oddly rejected, Logan averts his eyes from the closed door, sucking in a calming breath. He's not going to overreact; after all, it could be nothing. Walking back into the bedroom, he pulls on his workout gear, laces his running shoes and heads for the door. After a moment of hesitation, he stops outside the bathroom door and knocks on it.

"Veronica?"

There's a beat of silence before her voice sounds through the door, slightly muffled. "Yeah?"

"I'm going for a run. I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Okay."

He slips out of the condo, breaking into a jog as he makes his way out to the beach. Setting a steady pace, he starts running along the coast, letting his mind blank out, only concentrating on his breathing, on his feet pounding across the damp sand. The no-thinking approach only works for a couple of minutes, and soon his thoughts turn to Veronica again. He's confused, unsure how to interpret her standoffishness. He thought she had fun yesterday, she certainly seemed excited and impressed when he showed her the jet, when she watched him flying. She was obviously worried about the risks involved, but it's not like either of them are strangers to dangerous situations. They've both been in plenty of them before, and she's the strongest, most resilient person he knows. He can't imagine that something like this would be a big issue for her.

He doesn't run for as long as he usually would; he's too distracted, too anxious to get back, to try to get to the bottom of what's going on with Veronica this morning, so he turns back after only a mile and a half. When he returns to the condo, he finds her standing in the bedroom, fully dressed and hair pulled back in a clip as she shoves clothes into her bag.

"Hey," he greets, slightly breathlessly, hovering in the bedroom doorway.

"Hey."

She turns to him, smiles a little more genuinely this time, though she doesn't move from her spot by the bed. He takes that as an invitation and walks over, slipping his arms around her from behind, pressing his lips to the base of her neck.

"You think we could head back soon?" she asks. "I want to get to the hospital to see my dad."

"Oh, uh, sure." He nods, a little miffed. He was hoping for a relaxing morning, thought maybe they could take a coastal detour on their way back to Neptune, but it seems Veronica has other ideas. "Let me just shower and change and we can get going."

"Thanks."

Her smile grows a little and Logan dips his head, kisses her cheek. Normally this is when she turns in his arms, wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down for a proper kiss. But she doesn't, she just keeps packing. With a frown, Logan releases her and heads for the bathroom.

Veronica is quiet on the drive back up to Neptune and after twenty minutes, Logan is feeling the weight of the silence. He glances over to her, opens his mouth to speak, but she leans forward, switching on the radio and turning up the music before turning her attention to the scenery flying by. _Okay, then_.

As they cross the Coronado Bridge, Veronica turns to him. "Can you drop me at the hospital?"

"Sure. Okay." He nods and a few minutes later, he pulls up outside the hospital. "You need a ride home later?"

She shakes her head. "No, it's fine, I'll get a cab."

He frowns. "Don't be stupid. I'll pick you up, okay?"

"You don't have to." She shakes her head. "I'm happy to get a cab. You could spend some time with Dick if you want."

Logan blinks. Is she serious? _Why would I spend time with Dick when I only have a couple days left with her?_

"I'll pick you up," he repeats firmly. "Just give me a call when you're ready to leave."

"Okay, fine, you can pick me up." She relents. "I'll see you later."

She flashes a quick smile, leans across the console to kiss him, then opens the car door and steps out. Logan's eyes follow her until she disappears inside. Yeah, something's definitely up.

With a sigh, he signals and pulls out into the road, heading for the beach house. When he gets there he finds Dick lounging on the patio outside, surfboard propped against the side of the house, the top half of his wetsuit around his waist and a glass of orange juice in his hand.

"Hey, man." He greets his friend, sinking down into a free chair. "Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

Dick shrugs. "Beauty of being the boss."

"Ah." Logan makes an airy hand gesture. "The joys of CEO-dom."

Freshman year at Hearst, Dick was something of a slacker, but something changed in sophomore year and for reasons he still won't divulge to Logan, Dick actually knuckled down and took school seriously… for the most part. Logan's not sure if it was related to the return of his father, or any of his other family-related problems, but whatever it was, it worked. It took a few years, but Dick eventually got himself a business degree and, using his trust fund money, set up his own company. It started off as a small surf shop, selling custom-designed boards and equipment, but as business picked up, he started expanding and now he owns a chain of the shops along the California coast and even runs a couple of surf schools too.

They've never really talked about it, but Logan has a sneaking suspicion that his friend's unexpected turnaround has something to do with him, with his own struggles in college. Dick was there, for all of it, he witnessed Logan's fall from grace first hand, saw how he was destroying his life with booze and drugs, and he suspects it gave his friend a reality check.

"So, how's Ronnie?" Dick asks, actually sounding genuinely interested. "You get her all hot and bothered over your plane yesterday?"

"She's good." Logan nods. "It was good."

"But?" Dick can be surprisingly perceptive sometimes.

Logan shakes his head, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, rubbing his hands together. "I don't know. She was fine yesterday, but this morning, she's… something's bothering her, and I have no idea what."

Dick studies him for a moment before shrugging, as if the solution is simple. "Talk to her, dude."

"Yeah, I'm going to…" He frowns, a small, amused smile tugging at his lips. "Wait, did you just give me actual, sound advice?"

"Hey, I have been known to. Sometimes." He shrugs again, looking at Logan contemplatively. "Look, dude, you and Ronnie… as much as it pains me to say it, you've always had this… I dunno, connection, or whatever. God knows I'm not her biggest fan, but even I can tell she makes you happy." He leans forward, claps his hand on Logan's shoulder. "After all this time, you owe it to yourselves to be honest, talk things through, get it all out in the open."

Logan blinks, surprised by the seriousness of his friend's tone. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with Dick?"

Dick looks away, his gaze focused out over the ocean. "Just take the advice, dude."

Logan watches Dick closely for a moment; his friend has never been a complicated guy, but even though he rarely talks about it, Logan knows he's got his own problems and issues; ones that run far deeper than Dick would ever openly admit. He nods.

"Yeah. I will." He stands, placing his hand on Dick's shoulder and squeezing gently. "Thanks, man."

"Anytime."

Logan moves to head back inside the beach house, but Dick's voice stops him.

"Hey, dude, I gotta go out of town again tomorrow." He waves his hand. "Some problem with the suppliers to the Monterey store. Won't be back until Friday."

"Okay…" Logan frowns. This isn't unusual; Dick goes out of town often.

"So, it means I'm gonna miss your big send-off Wednesday night," Dick says.

"Uh, big send-off?" This is the first Logan's heard of it.

"Yeah, so I figured, let's party tonight instead." He grins. "09er at eight?"

"Look, Dick… I don't know…" Logan hedges. He wasn't planning for a big goodbye party—wasn't really expecting anyone to care that much. "Veronica and I—"

"Oh, dude, come on." Dick scoffs. "You and Veronica have been together practically 24/7 since she got back. You can take one night off for your friends."

Logan sighs. "I'll see, but I don't know…"

Dick studies him for a moment, before sighing. "Okay, fine, you can bring Ronnie too."

"Uh, yeah, that's a given anyway," he says.

At least he hopes it is, assuming he can get to the bottom of what's going on with her today, and that she'll be receptive to the idea of spending an evening at the 09er.

He doesn't want to let Dick down either though. "Sure, I'll see what I can do."

Heading inside, he makes a beeline for the kitchen. Pulling open the fridge door, he grabs a soda and pops it open, taking a swig. It's at times like this he longs for a drink, something to take the edge off when he's feeling unsettled. The craving has diminished significantly over the years, but sometimes, especially when he's stressed or upset or confused, the urge to drink rears its ugly head. So far, he's been successful in his attempts to keep it at bay; he hasn't had a single drop of alcohol since that night on the beach, though he's come pretty close at times, but he's determined not to fall off the wagon now.

He exhales heavily, placing the can down on the counter and flattening his hands over the marble surface, leaning his weight on it. ' _Talk to her, dude'_ , Dick's words sound in his mind. Sounds simple, huh? Yeah, it should be, after all, they've been communicating well over the last couple of weeks, discussing things they should have talked about years ago, but for some reason, he's nervous at the prospect of a initiating a deliberate conversation with her. He turns, opening the fridge again and staring at the contents in contemplation, an idea beginning to form in his mind.

* * *

With two full grocery bags loaded into the backseat of the BMW, Logan pulls up outside the hospital just after noon, Veronica having called twenty minutes ago.

"Hey," he greets when she opens the door and climbs inside. She barely looks any better than this morning and he frowns in concern. "How was your dad?"

"He's okay," she says. "But he's going a bit stir crazy in that hospital room."

"Understandable." Logan nods, remembering how trapped he felt stuck in the hospital that October. "Have they said when he can be discharged?"

"The doctor told me it shouldn't be much longer, maybe the end of the week or early next week."

"That's good."

"Yeah." She nods. "It'll be great to have him home."

For a moment, she looks like she wants to say more, but then seems to think better of it and turns to look out at the passing scenery. Logan tries not to keep glancing at her as he drives, though he's not particularly successful. He knows they need to talk, he just doesn't know how to broach the subject.

He turns the car onto Mr. Mars' street and pulls up in front of the bungalow. Veronica grabs her bag from the backseat, while Logan picks up the grocery bags and climbs the steps up to the house. When Veronica lets them in, he heads past her and into the kitchen, placing the bags down on the counter.

Veronica follows him into the kitchen, a slight frown on her face as she gestures toward the groceries. "What's all this?"

"Oh, uh…" He looks down at the bags in front of him. "I thought I'd make lunch for you. How does lasagne sound?"

"Logan, I'm fine." She reads between the lines, sounding tired. "You don't have to..."

"I want to."

"I'm perfectly capable of fixing lunch, you know. You don't have to… do all this," she says, watching him pulling out ingredients.

"I know you are, but like I said, I want to." He shrugs. "Besides, you're tired; you said yourself you didn't sleep well."

"I'm fine, Logan."

"Yeah, so you keep saying." He stops what he's doing and turns to her. "But I'm not sure I believe it. Veronica, what's going on?"

"Nothing," she protests quickly, taking a step back.

"It's not fucking nothing," he retorts.

He doesn't mean to curse; he told himself earlier he would stay calm, talk to her rationally, but then being around Veronica has always managed to bring his emotions right to the surface, leaving him feeling raw and vulnerable, making him lash out.

"You've been distant all day," he counters. "What the fuck happened between last night and this morning to make you shut down on me?"

"I'm not shutting down." She crosses her arms over her chest, her jaw set, eyes flashing.

"Oh no?" He steps forward, closer to her, pressing his thumb and forefinger together, then raising his hand in an agitated gesture. "It feels a whole lot like it."

"Well, it's not."

"I thought we were doing the adult thing now, you know, actually talking to each other?" He shakes his head in frustration.

She just stares up at him, almost defiantly. "We are."

"Yeah? I thought so, but…" He sighs. "You're not talking to me right now."

She lets out a frustrated huff of air, then turns away from him. "You know, I don't have to tell you every single thing."

Logan sighs, looking heavenward. "Look, I don't want to do this with you again, Veronica."

She whirls around. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I put up with your secrets and your evasiveness and your goddamn compartmentalisation in high school and college, but not anymore." He exhales heavily. "If we can't be open and honest with each other now, then I can't do this."

She freezes, her face paling. "What? Logan…no…"

"Talk to me, Veronica," he says seriously. "Please."

"No…I… Logan, it's not…" She turns, takes a couple of steps away from him.

"Veronica," he says warningly, following her and reaching out to place his hand on her arm.

She whips around and he's shocked to see tears in her eyes. "I'm fucking scared, okay, Logan?"

"What?" _She's scared? Why?_

"I've just found you again and you're leaving!" Her voice rises as the words spill out. "In a couple of days, you'll be off flying jets over fucking war zones, and I'm going to be left here and…" She trails off, sucking in a steadying breath before looking up at him. "You could _die_ out there, Logan. I don't know what I'd do—"

She stops abruptly. Logan's mouth falls open and he feels like he's been punched in the gut. How has he not noticed she's been feeling this way?

"Veronica, I'm sorry." He reaches out to her, but she steps back, shaking her head and holding up a hand. "I didn't realise…"

"I've been trying not to think about it, about what's going to happen when you leave," she says softly. "But yesterday… well, it kind of opened my eyes to you know, the reality of it, the dangers you'll be facing out there."

"God, I'm sorry." _Shit._ _How did I manage to screw even that up?_ "I didn't mean… I just wanted to…" He struggles for the right words. "I thought it would be fun."

"It was. It's just…" She sighs, looking up at him, eyes bright with unshed tears. "What are we going to do, Logan… when you leave?"

He steps forward, bringing his hands to her waist. "I don't know. I haven't really done this before. You know, had someone back home when I'm away."

She frowns. "What about Carrie?"

"I didn't deploy for more than a few weeks at a time while we were together." He shrugs. "She was gone more than I was… on tour, mostly."

Truth is, he and Carrie didn't really have that kind of relationship. They would spend time together when they were both in the same city, and talk occasionally on the phone or Skype while they were apart, but other than that they were pretty independent. He loved Carrie, sure, but it hadn't been that all-consuming, can't-live-without-each-other kind of love. Not like with…

"Oh."

"Yeah."

She steps in closer, pressing her hands to his chest. "I don't want you to go, Logan."

"I don't want to go either," he says softly, lifting a hand and letting his fingers trail down the side of her face. "But I have to; I don't have a choice. I don't show up on Thursday and I get in a lot of trouble."

"I know."

Her forehead drops to his chest and he closes his eyes against the emotion starting to build inside him. She sighs.

"So what do we do?" she asks, looking up at him.

"Well, the ship has internet," he tells her gently. "The connection is pretty crappy and I won't get a whole lot of time to use it, but we can email, and Skype sometimes."

"Yeah?" She looks a little less dejected.

He nods. "And there's always the classic: snail mail. The mail service can be unreliable, but it does work."

She smiles a little. "I could send you, like, care packages and stuff."

"You could."

He relaxes a little, feeling a knot of…something in his chest. He's never really had anyone send him anything while he's been on deployment before, unless you count Dick's 'thoughtful' attempts at mailing inappropriate materials, which usually got banned before they could even make it off US soil.

She nods, her face crumpling, a couple of tears leaking from her eyes and beginning to meander down her cheeks.

"Hey," he murmurs, pulling her into a hug. She buries her face in his chest. "It's gonna be okay."

"It's six months, Logan," she says, her voice muffled against his shirt. " _Six_ _months_. How am I going to survive all that time without you?"

She lifts her head again, looking up at him tearfully.

"I want to be able to see you whenever I like." She lets her fingers drift along his chest, leaving tingles in their wake. "I want to curl up on the couch with you and hear about your day. I want to get to know you again, Logan, to learn all about the last nine years, to see if we can build a life together again." She sniffs, a couple of fresh tears escaping her eyes. "But you won't be here."

"Veronica…" It's breaking his heart, seeing her looking so lost.

She rises up on tiptoes, the fingers of one hand clenching the material of his shirt as she presses her mouth to his in an almost desperate kiss.

She pulls back, her other hand cupping his jaw, her thumb stroking gently as she says, "I'm not going to be able to kiss you, or hold you, or make love to you for six months."

"I know." His hand comes up, fingers brushing across her cheek, his thumb catching her tears. "I want all of that too."

His palm cups her cheek, then slides round to the back of her neck, tilting her chin up toward his. Lowering his mouth to hers, he kisses her softly, slowly, attempting to pour everything he's feeling into it.

When he pulls back, he looks down at her seriously. "You're not the only one who's scared, Veronica."

It's true. He's scared of leaving her so soon after reconnecting again; scared they won't be able to make it work if they're apart. He's scared that she's going to change her mind; that she's not going to be here when he gets back. He's scared of how much he needs her, of how deep his feelings for her still run, even after all this time.

"It's killing me that I won't get to see you or hold you or touch you for so long," he admits. "But we will get through this, okay? We have to."

"Yeah…" She nods, looking a little more composed now. "Okay. We will."

He feels his mouth twitch. He's not sure if she's agreeing so much as trying to convince herself.

"It's only six months," he says softly. "We've already gone nine years without seeing each other."

She sighs, nodding gently. "Yeah, but that was different."

"Yeah, I know," he agrees. "Look, we have, what, two-and-a-half days? I want to spend as much of that time as possible with you."

He lifts his head and presses a kiss to her forehead before taking a step back.

"Come on, let me make lunch for you."

She studies him for a moment, her expression solemn, before her lips curve up into a soft smile. "Okay. But on one condition."

"And what condition is that?" He struggles not to sound suspicious.

"It can't just be any old lasagne," she says then. "You have to make the Keith Mars Secret Recipe lasagne."

"I do, huh?" He doesn't suppress his grin, grateful that her mood is improving. "Well, then, since it's a secret recipe that I'm not privy to, you'll need to pitch in too."

"Deal."

He turns to the grocery bags and pulls out the remainder of the ingredients, both of them getting to work on preparing the dish.

A few minutes later, he glances over to where she's busying herself with the cheese sauce, and asks, "So, are you going to tell me what's so secret about this recipe?"

"Nope."

"You know, I bet I could guess." He stirs the meat sauce once more before taking it off the heat. "I mean, the pasta's pre-cooked and I'm in charge of the meat … so that only leaves the Béchamel sauce." Her back is to him, her body still, refusing to answer. "So, what is it? Added spices? Extra milk? More cheese?" She flinches slightly at that. "Ha, it's the cheese, isn't it?"

"No."

He grins, stepping up behind her and leaning his hands on the counter either side of her and resting his chin on her shoulder. "Yeah, it is."

"I plead the fifth." She continues to stir cheese into the sauce. "It's supposed to be a secret."

"Yeah, okay." He lets it go, pressing a kiss to the base of her neck. "You about done?"

She gives it one more stir, then holds out the saucepan to him. He layers the pasta, meat and cheese sauce into the dish, finishes with a further sprinkle of cheese and places it in the oven.

"So…" He turns back to her. "We have an hour."

"We do." She nods, lips curling up into a smile as she hops up onto the counter.

Logan takes that as invitation and moves closer, stepping between her legs. She reaches out, catches his shirt in her fingers and pulls him in for a kiss.

"I'm sorry about earlier," She tells him softly when they part. "I kind of freaked out."

"It's okay," he says, resting his hands on thighs. "You're allowed to freak, on occasion. I know all this deployment stuff can be overwhelming. Hell, it freaks me out sometimes too."

"It's not just that." She fingers the lapels of his shirt. "These last few weeks back in Neptune, it's like my life finally makes sense again, you know? I'm back where I'm meant to be; with my dad, Wallace, Mac… with you."

Logan can't help the smile that forms on his lips. He feels the same way… it's like something was missing before she came back into town and now it's… not.

"But you're leaving on Thursday," she adds. "And this perfect little bubble we've been living in for the last two weeks will be no more."

"Veronica, we'll be okay."

"Yeah…" She looks down.

"We will."

He reaches out, tucks her hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger on her skin. She lifts her head, watches him for a moment, before nodding slowly. He studies her for a moment; she looks determined at least. He just hopes he's right and that they will make it.

"So, uh, I don't know what you were thinking of doing tonight, but would you be up for going out?"

She narrows her eyes in suspicion. "Going out where?"

He sighs.

"Dick wants to give me a pre-deployment send off tonight, at the 09er," he says. "He's going out of town again tomorrow and won't be back before I leave."

"Oh." Her expression clears. "No, of course, Logan. We can go."

"Even though you hate the 09er and everything it represents?"

She just smiles patiently. "Logan, he's your friend. And I'm not selfish enough to think that I can keep you for myself all the time."

He nods. "Okay, yeah. We'll go. You can invite Mac and Wallace too, if you like."

Her smile widens. "Yeah, I think I will."

"Great." He smiles, warmth spreading through his chest. "Thank you."

She doesn't reply, just nods and gives him a warm smile, her expression a combination of understanding and grateful.

"So, uh…" She runs a finger down his chest. "You said we had an hour… wanna make out?"

He grins. "Hell, yeah."

* * *

Veronica leans against the bar counter in the 09er, her eyes scanning the crowd as she wonders how much longer she's going to have to endure these people tonight. Logan's around somewhere; he excused himself to go to the bathroom, but it's been several minutes now and she figures he's probably gotten held up somewhere along the way.

Logan was right earlier when he purported that she hated this place; it's too much of a reminder of high school and all the crap that came with it for her liking. It's not that she can't handle these people, she's more than capable of that; it's more that she'd rather not have to. She's willing to put herself through it for Logan though, because Dick is his best friend and she knows how much he means to him.

She's also still feeling a little vulnerable after the last couple of days. She's not used to being scared, not used to dealing with the prospect of missing someone like she knows she's going to miss Logan. There's a reason she's always kept people at a distance, has always been the one to end things before she got in too deep. Her therapist back at Stanford had a couple of theories as to why, fear of abandonment and fear of intimacy being the two most prominent. At the time, she dismissed them with a scoff and a quick denial, but the more she attended the sessions and the more she thought about it, she found herself admitting he was probably right. She's been trying to work on letting other people in, on letting her walls down, but it hasn't been easy. With Logan though, she's quickly realising that it's something she's going to need to do if she wants to make things work this time.

"So, how ya doin', Supafly?" Wallace sidles up beside her, giving her a grin, pulling her from her thoughts. "Feeling like you fit in here yet?"

"Not in the slightest." She turns to face her best friend. "This place represents everything I hated about high school."

"Yeah, me too." Wallace nods.

Veronica feigns surprise. "You mean you _don't_ come here every weekend?"

He gives her a look that says, _are you kidding me?_

"Guess not."

"Mac not stopping by tonight?"

Veronica shakes her head. "She got held up at work, some last-minute coding emergency."

"Aw, that's too bad. Could have used another misfit to make this place more bearable."

"You know, you didn't have to come," Veronica reminds him, not unkindly.

"What, and leave you to fend off all the rich snobs by yourself?" he counters. "I don't think so."

She raises an eyebrow. "Are you including Logan in that rich snob category?"

Wallace looks at her for a moment, before sighing, shaking his head. "Vee, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Ronnie, hey!" Dick walks up to them then, interrupting the conversation, his arms held out to the side in greeting. He glances toward Wallace. "And Ronnie's friend. Enjoying the festivities?"

"Uh, it's Wallace."

"Yeah." Dick dismisses with a wave of his hand.

"Dick." She plasters a smile on her face. "What's up?"

"Oh, you know, the usual." He grins. "Having a great time in honour of my boy."

"Yeah."

There's a moment of awkward silence as Dick just stands there, looking between them expectantly. Wallace seems to be at a loss, silently shooting her helpless glances, while Veronica wracks her brain for something—anything—to say.

"So, uh, Dick, Logan tells me you run your own business now?"

"Yeah." Dick nods emphatically. "Combined two of my greatest loves: surfing and money."

"That's great." She tries for genuine enthusiasm, though she's not sure she's pulling it off. "And… that's going well?"

"It's off the charts, baby." He grins and shoots finger guns in her direction. When it doesn't garner a reaction, other than a slight raise of her eyebrows, he straightens and shoves his hands in his pockets, expression turning more serious. "Yeah, it's good. Got ten stores open up and down the coast. Three surf schools running, one here in Neptune, the others in San Diego and L.A."

"That's great, Dick."

"Hey." Logan appears beside her, letting his hand rest on her lower back and dropping a kiss to her temple. "Sorry about that; I got sidetracked by some guy wanting to offer me legal advice." He shakes his head in annoyance, before nodding to the others. "Hey, Wallace, how's it goin'?"

"Logan." Wallace nods. "Vee tells me you're shipping out this week?"

"Yeah," says Logan. "Thursday morning. Six-month deployment."

"Six months in the middle of the ocean? Don't know how you do it, man."

Logan shrugs, giving a wry smile. "Yeah, it can suck. But flying jets out there every day kinda makes up for it."

"I'll bet."

Veronica doesn't suppress her smile at the almost-friendly interaction between her best friend and her…and Logan. They aren't likely to be friends any time soon, she knows that, but she's grateful that they're both at least making an effort.

"You know, man… you, a navy pilot." Wallace shakes his head. "Never woulda pegged that one."

Logan gives a shrug as he replies, "Yeah, me either. But here I am."

"You know, before I got my masters in Education, I majored in Aeronautical Engineering," Wallace adds then. "I'd love to pick your brains about your jet someday."

Logan straightens beside her, causing Veronica to glance up at him. He looks surprised. "Uh, yeah, sure. I just fly it though, don't really know much about the engineering stuff."

"No, I get that, but it would be cool to hear a pilot's point of view."

Veronica smiles, giving Wallace a grateful nod when he catches her eye.

"Hey, man," Dick addresses Logan then. He's been standing kind of awkwardly beside them for the last couple of minutes. "You got a second?"

He gestures towards the other side of the room and Logan glances at Veronica for a second, before nodding.

"Sure," Logan agrees. To her, he says, "Back in a minute."

"Okay." Veronica rises up to kiss him briefly. "You want another drink?"

"Sure." Logan flashes her a smile as he turns and follows Dick across the room.

"Thanks for that," she tells Wallace when Logan's out of earshot.

Wallace frowns. "For what?"

"For making an effort just then," she clarifies. "I know he's not your favourite person."

"Hey, Mars, I am capable of being nice, you know." He shrugs. "And besides, I may not be his biggest fan, but the engineer in me is kinda fascinated by his chosen career."

"Thanks," she repeats, feeling a rush of gratitude towards him as she turns to the bar and signals for the bartender.

"What can I get you?" the man behind the counter asks.

"Wallace?" She turns to him in question.

"Bud for me, thanks."

"Two Buds and a soda and lime, please."

"You not drinking tonight, Vee?" Wallace looks confused when the bartender places the three drinks on the counter in front of them.

"Huh?" She glances down at the drinks. "Oh, no, that one's Logan's."

He looks at her sceptically. "Logan Echolls drinks soda and lime? Don't think I've seen the guy down _anything_ non-alcoholic before."

"Well, he does now." She gives him a pointed look, urging him to drop it.

"Oh…" He frowns for a moment, before his expression clears in realisation. "Oh. Wow. Guess he has changed, huh?"

"Yeah, he has," she replies, leaving the _so maybe you should give him a chance_ unspoken as she hands him his beer and takes a sip of her own.

A comfortable silence falls between them and her gaze drifts over to the corner of the room where she can see Dick and Logan standing together. Dick looks serious, his hand grasping Logan's shoulder as he speaks, while Logan nods every now and then. His stance is relaxed though, his back free of tension, and though she can't see his face, she can imagine he's mostly humouring Dick. She's seen how many beers the blond has knocked back already and she wouldn't be surprised if he was already trashed.

She's never been a fan of the guy, though she tolerated him at Hearst for Logan's benefit. She doesn't know the full story, but from what Logan's told her and the fact that Dick himself recently admitted to suffering from depression, he hasn't had an easy life either. However, she knows they're good friends and that neither of them have really had anyone else to turn to except each other for the last few years. Dick seems to have grown up, at least a little, since college. Given the more serious glimpse she saw of him just now, and the fact that he seems to be a successful businessman now, she has a feeling that the clueless, surfer-dude persona is more of an act than anything else.

Beside her, Wallace spots a female colleague and excuses himself to talk to her, but Veronica's attention is still on Logan and Dick across the room. Now, Logan's the one talking and Dick is nodding along, his expression serious again. Her eyes narrow slightly as she tries to figure out what they might be talking about, though her efforts are unsuccessful. A moment later, they hug, clapping each other heartily on the back, and then turn back towards the bar again, Dick heading off to talk to someone, while Logan makes his way back toward her.

"Everything okay?" Veronica asks when Logan joins her. She holds out the soda and lime and he takes it with a smile.

"Thanks." He nods, glancing toward Dick again. "Yeah, everything's great. How about you? Not on the verge of punching anyone yet?"

She scoffs. "No, I think I'm good. For now at least."

He steps in front of her, propping one elbow on the bar counter as he leans in close. "We don't have to stay much longer, just a few more minutes of attempted socialising then we can get out of here."

She rises up on tiptoes, rests her forehead against his. "Okay. But sooner would be preferable to later."

She kisses him gently, then pulls back, lowering her heels to the ground again.

He smiles, running a finger along her cheek. "I think that can be arranged."


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:**

 **Apologies for not updating for a few weeks - I was really busy with work and then spent 10 days in Italy. I had hoped to be able to post a new chapter last week, but I didn't have a chance to work on it until a few days ago.**

 **However, today is a good day: I have chapter 10 ready now, plus it's payday and it's my birthday too (if only the weather was better - feels more like February out there than almost June) :).**

* * *

 **Chapter Ten**

"Wow…"

Logan's head falls back against the pillows, heart pounding, feeling relaxed and sated. Veronica crawls up his body and settles beside him, sliding one leg over his and resting her arm on his chest, chin propped on her hand. He slips his arm around her.

She grins at him. "Good?"

He nods emphatically, voice catching slightly as he replies, "Very good."

"Good." She's wearing a smug expression and the sight of her, lips red and swollen, hair mussed and cheeks rosy, makes him chuckle.

"So," he says, forcing casualness into his tone. "Where did you learn to do _that_?"

She gives a shrug, her bare skin sliding against his with the movement. His stomach muscles contract involuntarily.

"Oh, you know, around."

He nods, tilting his head back, eyes roaming the ceiling of the Mars' spare room. _Just ask her;_ _this is the perfect opportunity._ Her lips are on his collarbone, dropping gentle kisses along his skin. His eyes slide closed for a moment, revelling in the sensations her caresses are invoking in him, but then he remembers where he is, and he opens them again.

"Hey, Veronica?"

"Hmm?" Her breath is warm on his chest.

"What… uh, who..." He curses his inability to form articulate words. "No, where…. I mean… shit, I don't know what I mean."

She lifts her head, watching him curiously, a small grin of amusement tugging at her lips. "You know, you'd make a great public speaker."

He narrows his eyes. "Very funny."

She smiles good-naturedly, running her fingers over his chest. "Logan, what are you trying to say?"

He sighs. This is not coming out the way he hoped. "I guess what I'm trying to say, well, ask, is… why?"

"Why, what?" She looks a little bemused. "You're going to have to elaborate on that."

"Why… everything, I guess." He gives a half-shrug. "I want to know what you've been up to for the last nine years, where you've been, what you've done, why you made the choices you did." She frowns, opening her mouth to speak, so he adds quickly, "I mean, you know a lot more about what I've been doing the last few years than I know about your life."

"Oh." She looks down, watches her fingers moving over his skin. "Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to keep anything from you. I'm just not really used to talking about myself, you know?"

"I know." He nods, though she's not looking at him. Even when they were a couple before, she was never particularly open about her feelings, preferring to keep them to herself.

She glances up at him. "So what do you want to know?"

"Uh… okay, why did you choose psychology for your major?"

She chuckles softly. "Wow, straight in there with the tough questions, huh?"

"Sorry." He shrugs. "Inquiring minds, and all that. It's not really what I would have pictured you doing."

She sighs, snuggles closer to his side, her fingers stilling on his chest.

"When I left Neptune, I wanted a fresh start," she says softly. "One of the agents I met at the FBI internship recommended a program at Stanford that would give me a good chance at getting into the bureau after I graduated." She stops for a moment, thinking. "She put me in touch with a contact of hers there and by some miracle, they offered me a place and a partial scholarship."

Logan blinks. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah." She shrugs. "I had to start over with most of the freshman classes again, since I didn't have all the pre-requisites from Hearst. One of those classes was freshman psych." Her fingers begin tracing circles over his skin again and he tries desperately not to let it distract him. "I didn't think too much of it at first, but then we covered some topics that resonated with me, and they made me reconsider my options. After a lot of back and forth, I decided to switch majors."

Logan nods thoughtfully. Before she left Neptune, she was pretty gung-ho about the FBI internship and Logan figured that's what she'd end up doing. He remembers being surprised to learn through the grapevine that she ended up in law school instead.

"You changed your mind about the FBI?"

She nods. "The internship was mostly paper-pushing and coffee-making, but I did get the opportunity to observe some of the agents at work and it gave me a pretty good insight into how the organisation works; on top of the actual fieldwork, there's just so much paperwork and red tape. At the time it still seemed like a good opportunity, but when I was at Stanford, the more I thought about it, the more I realised I wouldn't thrive in that environment."

Logan smiles wistfully. "Yeah, you were never one to play by the rules."

"Exactly." She looks up, returning the smile. "Plus, I was kind of on a mission to put Neptune life and investigating behind me. Taking psych seemed like a good way to do that."

"Is that how you ended up at Law School?"

She's quiet for a moment, her head bowed again, and though he can't see her expression, he's sure the wheels are turning in her mind.

"Yeah. Kind of." She sighs, stretching her arm across his torso so her hand can curl around his side. "If I wasn't going to work in the PI business or the FBI, I figured I could at least put my knowledge to good use and help people that way instead."

A thought occurs to Logan then and he chuckles.

"What?" she asks.

"Nothing… it's just, you spent most of our teen years bending the rules and breaking the law, and you ended up becoming a lawyer."

She laughs softly. "Yeah, who woulda thought it?" There's a pause. "Though I'm not technically a lawyer yet. I was supposed to take the bar in New York next month."

Logan stills, the words a stark reminder of the fact that up until a few weeks ago, she had her own life on the East Coast, one that didn't include him.

"Are you still going to take it?"

"Well, not the New York one anyway, since I'm going to be living here now," she admits. "I could take the bar here in California, but I don't know if I will."

"Why not?" he asks. "You've come this far already."

She shrugs. "I'm not planning to practice law now. Seems a bit redundant."

"It might come in useful in the future, give you some options."

"Yeah, maybe."

There's a few seconds of silence, before Logan opens his mouth to ask something that's been on his mind for the last couple of minutes.

"You said just now that some of the psych classes resonated with you… what were they?"

She's quiet for a moment, before she says. "Oh, you know, things I could relate to, alcoholic and absentee parents, rape culture… child abuse."

Logan's chest tightens at that and he pushes down some of the not-so-pleasant memories from his childhood. "Oh."

"Yeah." She props herself up on one elbow, her hand sliding back across his chest as she steadies herself, looking down at him. "I got a lot of insight into that topic in particular; there was one case that…" She trails off, looking away, seeming to think better of vocalising it. With a resolved set of her jaw, she turns back to face him again. "Look, I just want to say that I understand a lot better now; what you were going through back then, how it affected you, what made you act the way you did as a teenager."

"Yeah. Well… " Logan clears his throat, breaking eye contact with her as he looks up at the ceiling. His cheeks burn with shame at the thought of how he acted out, how he treated her back then. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologise," she says gently. "I forgave you a long time ago. I just want you to know that I get it. I understand _why_ now. It's okay."

"Yeah." He nods, though it doesn't feel like it's okay, at all.

He tears his gaze from the ceiling, lowering his chin so he can look at her. She's smiling at him softly. He begins to smile back, but then a startling thought occurs to him.

"Oh God, you're not going to start psycho-analysing me, are you?"

"Don't worry." She pats his chest. "I've already done that."

"Oh, well that's comforting." He snorts softly.

"Come here," she says, her expression softening as she leans up to capture his lips in a gentle kiss. Pulling back, she adds, "You know, you've turned out all right, Logan Echolls."

"Just all right?" He quirks an eyebrow in amusement.

"Better than all right," she amends quickly, her blue eyes shining with merriment, as she leans forward to kiss him again.

This time Logan responds, curling his free arm around her and urging her onto her back. He's about to settle over her when she pushes at his chest.

"No time for that, mister." She smirks, sitting up. "We have a big day ahead."

"We do?"

"Yep." She nods smugly. "Since you'll be spending most of tomorrow on the base, this is our last full day together and I figured we should spend it doing whatever you like. So, the day is yours, whatever you want to do before you leave, we'll do."

"Really?" He can't help the grin that spreads across his face.

"Yep." She nods with a wide smile. "So, what do you want to do?"

A sly grin tugs at his lips and he reaches for her again. "You."

She laughs, batting his hand away. "You will. Later."

"Promise?"

"Of course." He chuckles at her indignant expression.

"Come on, what _else_ do you want to do?" she probes. "You're about to spend six months at sea, there's got to be something you'll miss."

Logan thinks for a moment, sifting through the options in his mind. "Okay, here's my idea: we'll pack some food and take a drive up the coast. I know a secluded beach we can go to, maybe catch some waves while we're there."

"Okay." She smiles. "But you'll have to do the wave-catching on your own today."

* * *

Logan grins, hoisting his surfboard under his arm as he makes his way up the isolated beach, his gaze roaming Veronica's gorgeous form sprawled out on a large beach towel. She's wearing a green bikini that only enhances her curves, with a sheer kaftan draped over her shoulders. A pair of oversized sunglasses are perched on her nose and her hair flows around her shoulders in soft waves. He smiles, propping his surfboard in the sand and tugging his arms out of the wetsuit, letting it fall to his waist. Veronica lifts her head, her lips curling up in a smile as she sits up and hands him a towel. He dries off the best he can, then lowers himself onto the beach towel. Reaching for his sunglasses, he slips them on, shifting so he's stretched out sideways on the towel, his head resting in her lap.

"Good waves?" she asks, leaning back on one hand as the other comes up to stroke his scalp.

"Uh huh." He nods, a lazy smile spreading across his face, scalp tingling when her fingers run through his hair. "Great waves."

"You looked great out there."

"Thanks."

He closes his eyes, smiling contentedly, the heat of the sun beating down on his face. The small beach is quiet; the only sound that of the waves crashing onto the shore and the odd squawk of a lone seagull circling overhead.

"Logan?" Veronica breaks the silence a few moments later, her fingers gently stroking his scalp.

"Yeah?"

"What's life like on the ship?" she asks.

Logan tilts his head, looking up at her from behind his shades. The sunlight is bright, obscuring her face.

"What do you mean?"

She shrugs. "Well, six months is a long time to be stuck on a boat, what is there to do?"

"The carrier's pretty big," he says. "It's kind of like an enclosed city of five thousand."

"Five thousand? Seriously?" Logan tries not to smile at the incredulity in her tone.

"Yeah." He nods, turning his head and looking skyward again. "Sometimes more, it depends on the size of the carrier. It's not exactly luxurious…cramped corridors and vertical steps between levels, but it has everything we need: accommodation berths, mess halls, ready rooms, offices, stores, movie theatre, gym, medical centre… all of that."

"Wow." She seems impressed. "So, what do you actually do while you're deployed?"

"You mean like day-to-day?"

"Yeah." She nods. "I mean, you don't fly all the time, right?"

"No, I don't," he agrees, bringing his knees up and resting his feet flat on the towel. "Flying usually only takes up a small portion of the time—a lot of it is spent in briefings and flight planning, or doing paperwork and other tasks."

"So, what's a typical day for you?"

"It depends on the mission, but typically, if I'm not night-flying, I get up about six, shower, dress and head to the mess hall for food," he says. "After breakfast, we have a Strike Planning briefing—where the day's mission is discussed. Next, it's the mass coordination briefing, with all the different pilots who will be flying that day in attendance. After that briefing is a smaller one, just for the F/A-18 pilots, and then finally there's a briefing just between myself and the pilot I will be flying with for that mission."

"It sounds pretty complicated."

Logan smiles. "It's not that bad, really—you get used to it. After all the briefings, we plan the mission, maybe grab some lunch, then suit up for The Walk."

"The Walk?"

"It's what we call the process of getting suited up for the flight and going up to the flight deck. It takes about an hour or so." Veronica nods, so he continues. "Before I can fly, I have to sign the plane out and check its flight book for any maintenance issues it's had in the past and if anything is currently wrong with it."

"You take the plane up even when it has problems?"

There's a slight edge to her tone, though he can tell she's trying to hide it.

"Not if it has any major issues," he assures her. "But sometimes the jet will have one or two minor problems, like fading lights on the displays or a temperamental switch; things which aren't serious enough to warrant grounding it, but that I have to keep an eye on. If anything goes wrong during the flight, then I just turn around and land it."

"Oh."

"Usually I'll be in the air for only a couple of hours at a time, unless we have a longer mission scheduled, which can take five or six hours, then it's back to the carrier to land, followed by the debrief afterwards. I might also start planning for the next day if I'm scheduled to fly again." he says. "All of that takes up most of the day, so there's not a whole lot of time for much else, especially as I have to take 12 hours of crew rest before I can fly again. Usually, I'll spend the evening eating dinner and hanging out with the guys before bed."

Veronica's quiet for a moment, before she says softly, "I didn't realise it was so busy."

"Yeah." He nods in understanding. "It can be. Normally, I only fly two or three times a week, unless something's kicking off, but there are other responsibilities that fill the rest of the time."

"With all that, I guess the six months passes pretty quickly for you."

"Yeah, sometimes." Logan shrugs, wrinkling his nose at memories of going stir-crazy in the underbelly of the ship. "There are ups and downs though—the first few weeks are usually good, before reality sets in and you realise how long the deployment really is. Then there's a slump about two months in when you just get fed up with everything and can't wait to get off the fucking ship. It normally picks up again after that, as you get into the daily routine, but the slump usually hits again a few weeks before the end of the deployment. That's when I start going stir-crazy, counting down the days."

Through his shades, he sees Veronica take that in, giving a small nod.

"You know, when you're planning missions, or out in the jet, it's great," he says, "—you can forget about all the annoying crap on the ship—but it's during the downtime, when you're itching to get out, when all you want to do is go for a drive along the coast, or go for ice cream at Amy's, that it feels like you'll never make it home."

"I think it's going to feel like forever for me," she admits then. Logan looks up at her again, but she's lifted her head and is now staring out at the ocean. "I'm not going to have briefings and missions and flying to take up my time and distract me from missing you."

"Hey…" Logan sits up then, shifting so he can face her. He pulls off his shades and reaches out, letting his thumb run across her cheek. "You know it's not going to be easy for me either, right?"

She lifts her own sunglasses, perching them on top of her head so she can look at him properly. She nods. "I know."

"Like I said yesterday," he continues, "I've never really had anyone waiting at home when I've been away, and I think that makes things easier. Before, I didn't have to worry about what, or who, I was missing… because there wasn't really anyone to miss." He shrugs. "I could just live in the moment, enjoy the adventure of being out at sea, and not really think about life back home."

Veronica nods slowly, her expression turning to one of understanding.

"But now, you're here, and we're… you know…" He trails off, not really sure how to describe what they are right now. "… and I have no idea how I'm going to feel out there"—he nods towards the ocean—"this time around." He shifts closer, resting his forehead against hers, smiling softly as he looks into her eyes. "I guess we're just going to have to work through it as best we can."

"Yeah." She smiles, though it's a half-hearted, closed-mouth smile.

Logan leans in, gently capturing her lips in a reassuring kiss. In an attempt to lighten the mood, he reaches for her waist with his free hand, fingers lightly tickling her skin. He grins against her mouth when she flinches and starts to laugh, breaking the kiss and swatting at his arm.

"Stop!" she manages between giggles.

She sinks down onto the towel, trying to squirm away, shoving at his chest, but he uses his upper body strength to hold her there, towering above her with a wicked grin on his face.

"Logan, please." Her voice is breathless, filled with laughter. "Stop."

"Nope." He shakes his head playfully. "I like having you at my mercy."

"Oh, I bet you do."

Her palms flatten against his chest and he looks down at her, his fingers stilling over her skin at the lustful expression in her eyes. Her lips are parted, her breathing heavy from exertion, and the blood rushes immediately to his groin. With a quick smile, he darts down and kisses her again, more deeply this time, his tongue tangling with hers in a heated embrace.

"Mmm," she murmurs contentedly when they part. Her eyes are still closed and Logan can't resist dropping a quick kiss to the tip of her nose.

"Can we not talk about being apart anymore?" he asks. "We're together right now and I want to make the most of it."

Her eyes flutter open and she smiles lazily at him, one hand sliding up into his hair.

"Okay." She nods. "Well, the day is yours. What's next on your list? I seem to recall something about driving along the coast and eating ice cream from Amy's?"

"Yeah." He smiles, both of those things sounding very appealing right now, except… "But we have plenty of time for that later, and a whole picnic basket full of food right here. So what do you say to some lunch?"

"Lunch would be good."

Logan eases himself off her, sitting up and reaching for the food, while Veronica adjusts her position, shaking the sand from the towel, then smoothing it out again. She settles herself between his legs, leans back against his chest. Logan hands her a sandwich, then slips one arm around her waist as he takes a bite of his own. They eat in comfortable silence, looking out over the ocean, and Logan relaxes, unable to prevent a contented smile from spreading across his face.

* * *

Veronica glances over at Logan, smiling at the wide grin on his face as he speeds along the PCH. He's taking the curves of the road a little fast, his foot steadily applying pressure on the gas, but she's happy to indulge him today. After all, he flies fighter jets at over 1,000 mph— _so I looked it up, so what?—_ and driving a car must seem pretty tame in comparison. As she watches him, she feels a tell-tale emotion swelling in her chest, which she pushes down almost immediately… because if she doesn't, she knows she's going to start crying.

 _Geez, what is wrong with you, Veronica? You never get emotional like this… then again, maybe you've never had a reason to before._

She doesn't want to cry in front of Logan again, not when they only have a short amount of time left together, not when they're supposed to be having fun and enjoying the day. She'll have plenty of time to cry once he's gone.

Logan pulls the convertible out of a bend and along a long stretch of road. He looks over at her and smiles, then reaches across the central console and takes her hand. Locking eyes with him for a moment, before he has to return his concentration to the road ahead, she squeezes his hand lightly, then entwines her fingers with his. Studying his profile, noting the look of contentment on his face, the relaxed curve of his mouth, she lifts their linked hands and lightly kisses his knuckles. The next few minutes are spent in silence, Veronica simply enjoying Logan's company, luxuriating in the fact that for now, she can reach out and touch him whenever she likes.

About halfway back to Neptune, Logan pulls the car into the parking lot of a secluded restaurant for dinner. The food is good, though Veronica barely even acknowledges it, her attention too focused on Logan. Her gaze roams his form as he eats, her eyes catching on the way the muscles of his forearm flex when he lifts the fork to his mouth, on the movement of his Adam's Apple when he takes a long drink of his ice-cold water, on the tender way he looks at her from under those long eyelashes and gives a lazy smile, full of promises for the evening ahead. By the time they've finished eating, Veronica's nerves are thrumming with anticipation, and from the way he's stroking the fingers of her hand, his other hand curved around her, palm flat against her lower back as they head back to the car, Logan's are too.

On the drive back into Neptune, Logan stops at Amy's, flashing her a grin as they climb out of the car. Veronica narrows her eyes; there's no way he doesn't know she's horny as hell right now, but he's deliberately prolonging their outing, building the anticipation. He waits for her to join him, then takes her hand as they enter the beach-front ice cream shop. Veronica is just stepping forward to peruse the flavours behind the counter when an excited squeal causes her to look up in surprise.

"Logan!"

One of the girls working behind the counter is looking at Logan with a delighted grin, and Veronica can only watch in confusion as Logan's lips curl up into a matching smile. She takes a step back as the girl slips out from behind the counter and throws herself at Logan, rising up onto tiptoes and tightly wrapping her arms around his neck. Veronica blinks in surprise when instead of standing stiffly and trying to pry the girl from him, Logan returns the hug readily.

"What are you _doing_ here?" the girl asks, stepping back from him. "I mean, after everything…"

Logan grins, holding his hands out and giving a shrug. "Well, I couldn't leave for deployment without saying goodbye to my favourite girl."

"Oh, please," she scoffs, waving a dismissive hand. "We all know that title is reserved for—" She stops abruptly, gaze flicking to Veronica. The girl's eyes widen and she looks back to Logan again with an excited smile. "Her. Really? You and Veronica?"

At that, Veronica stiffens. _Okay, who is this girl—this pretty, slim college kid with those wide, bright, pretty eyes—and how does she know Logan? Hell, how does she know me?_

Logan looks to her with a smile, which quickly becomes a concerned frown when he sees her face.

"God, I'm sorry," he says. "Veronica, this is Heather, my long-time video game opponent."

The girl snorts, her reddish-brown ponytail bobbing with the movement. "Opponent? I beat you the last four times we played."

Logan rolls his eyes at that, turning back to Veronica. "Heather's a Junior at Hearst. You've actually met before, in the elevator of the Grand if I remember correctly. Heather stayed with me a couple days when her sister ran off to Vegas with Dick."

Veronica studies the girl for a few seconds, trying to place her. A moment later, it clicks. "You were the kid wearing my shirt."

Heather nods sheepishly. "Yeah, sorry about that. I was out of clothes, and Logan had some of yours still." The girl leans in closer. "Also, sorry about the whole song dedication thing. That was my fault—Logan didn't know anything about it."

Veronica glances at Logan, who is rolling his eyes. She's going to have to get the full story from him later. "That's okay."

Heather nods, then looks back up at Logan. "I'm really sorry about Carrie, and what happened after. I knew you didn't do it."

"Thanks." Logan nods. "But it's Veronica you have to thank for getting to the truth."

"Well, thank you, Veronica." Heather smiles widely at her, then turns back to Logan. "So you're shipping out again? How long this time?"

"Yeah, Thursday morning," he says with an apologetic shrug. "For six months."

"Ouch, really?" She cringes. "So I'm gonna have to go six whole months without beating you at Mario Kart?"

"'Fraid so."

"What about Veronica?" she asks, turning to her. "Do you play?"

"Sorry, I don't."

"Well, shit."

"Language," Logan warns playfully.

"Oh, fu—" Heather stops, glancing around, noticing a number of kids in the shop. "F-you, I'm almost 21. And you're one to talk, you used to swear around me all the time, and I was an impressionable pre-teen."

Veronica watches, amused, as Logan opens his mouth to protest, then closes it again, and shrugs. "Yeah, okay, you win that one."

Heather grins triumphantly, before glancing behind them and moving behind the counter again. "As great as it is to see you, Logan, I do have customers waiting, so if you're not here for ice cream…"

"Oh, no, we are. " Logan shoots Veronica a smile. "The usual for me. Veronica?"

"Vanilla waffle cone, please."

"Coming right up." Heather swiftly prepares the cones and hands them over.

Logan hands Veronica the waffle cone and, saying a quick goodbye to Heather, who is dealing with a line of customers, suggests they take a walk along the beach.

"So, Heather?" Veronica asks, slipping her arm around his waist as they exit the ice cream shop and start walking across the sand.

"Yeah." Logan nods, slinging one arm over her shoulder as he takes a lick of his cone. "I met her just after you and I broke up the last time. I was moping around the hotel room and Dick decided it would be a good idea to set me up with his date's sister. Only problem was, said sister turned out to be 11 years old. I got stuck babysitting her while Dick and her sister ran off to Vegas, where they got drunk and woke up married."

"Dick got married?" Veronica's eyes widen in surprise. "How did I not know this?"

"They got it annulled pretty quickly," Logan tells her. "But Heather and I bonded over video games and Amy's ice cream. We kept in touch afterward."

A memory of an over-excited Heather wearing her shirt and telling her how sorry Logan was flashed through her mind. "So, how did you two end up hitting it off?"

"We didn't at first. All I wanted to do was wallow in booze and misery, and Heather was just an annoyance. She was eternally optimistic and kept trying to make me happy and get us back together, saying that if we loved each other, we should be together. I tried to explain that it wasn't that simple, but she wouldn't hear it." He sighs. "After she dedicated that song to you, I blew up at her, told her she was too young to understand love."

"Ouch."

"Yeah." He shakes his head. "What I didn't know at the time was that her dad had just walked out on them and she wasn't taking it well; she was on Prozac and everything. The endless optimism was just her way of dealing with the situation."

"Poor girl."

"Yeah, and of course I'd just gone and made things worse by belittling her," he says, a touch of bitterness in his tone. "We'd had this debate earlier in the day about whether the ice cream was better at Amy's or at Zip's; I said Amy's, she claimed it was Zip's. As an apology, I took her to Amy's, and afterwards, she changed her mind and agreed with me." He gives a small chuckle. "We came home to find Dick and his new wife in the middle of a fight; they split up of course, but Heather and I agreed to keep in touch, and video game dates became a regular thing."

"She seems sweet," Veronica observes, nibbling at her waffle cone.

"Yeah, she is." Logan nods. "She's been through a lot, but she doesn't often let it get her down. She's majoring in Engineering, I think, or maybe it was Applied Math… she kept changing her mind last year, and I can never remember which one she went with in the end."

"Smart girl." Veronica's impressed. "It's nice she has you for a friend."

"Well, I haven't always been the best friend," he admits, "but she doesn't seem to have held it against me. I think she's been good for me too."

Veronica nods in understanding, the details of his fall from grace a few years ago fresh in her mind now. "Yeah, I can imagine she has."

Her eyes flick to his cone, to the ice cream that is rapidly melting and dripping down the side, dangerously close to his thumb. With a grin, she stops, leans across and licks it up.

"Hey!" Logan protests, pulling the cone out of her reach. "This one's mine. Eat your own."

Veronica gives him a faux-innocent look. "But it was dripping. I was just saving your hand from becoming a sticky mess."

"I'll show you sticky mess," Logan threatens, lifting the cone to his mouth and smearing it with ice cream, before leaning down and placing a sloppy kiss on her lips.

"Oh, eww." Veronica wipes her mouth. "That's gross."

He raises an eyebrow. "Is it? And here I thought smearing you with ice cream and licking it off would be a turn on."

A shiver of anticipation runs down her spine at the mental image his words conjure up. She pushes it down, saving it for later. "Well, there is something of a difference between sexy food play and smushing ice cream all over my face."

Logan's face falls then. "Damn, I knew we should have got a tub to go—we could be getting kinky right now."

"Who says we won't later?" Veronica teases. "Though maybe without the half-melted ice cream."

Logan tugs her closer and kisses her again, sans ice cream this time. "I might have to hold you to that."

* * *

Veronica waits in the car, watching through the window while Logan pops back inside Amy's to say goodbye to Heather. He's looking down at the girl seriously as he talks, before pulling her into a tight hug. Something in Veronica's chest tightens at the sight. For as much as Logan is still the same guy she used to know, it's moments like these that remind her that there's a lot she doesn't know about who he is now. They've been trying to cover as much ground as they can, but truthfully, there just hasn't been enough time to really get to know each other the way she'd like to.

She smiles as Logan leaves the store and climbs into the car, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking lot. He drives to the beach house this time, since Dick is out of town again, his hand resting on her leg the whole way, fingers tracing patterns along her thigh. By the time they pull up in the driveway and he cuts the engine, Veronica's struggling to keep it together.

The front door has barely closed behind them before she finds herself pressed up against it, Logan's mouth on hers, hot and demanding, his hands sliding down her back to cup her bottom. Veronica eagerly complies with his unspoken request, jumping up and wrapping her legs around his hips, the feel of his arousal pressing against her intimately sending a shudder of desire through her entire body. She hooks her arms around his neck for support as one of his hands leaves her waist and tugs at his belt buckle, undoing it deftly. He walks his fingers up her inner thigh, reaching for her underwear, preparing to tug it aside.

"Wait, stop."

"What?" Logan's eyes are unfocused as he pulls back and looks at her in confusion.

"Not here. Anyone could see." She nods towards the glass door behind her.

"Oh. Okay."

His hand returns to her bottom and he lifts her up, spinning around into the kitchen. He eases her onto the counter, then steps back, making sure to close the blinds and pull the curtain over the front door.

"Better?" He turns to her, his face flushed, pupils dilated.

"Uh huh." She nods with a coy grin, reaching for him. "Now come here."

Logan smiles lazily at Veronica, his hand running down her side, fingers caressing her warm, bare skin before they curve around her ass. He urges her close and she eagerly complies, shifting in the bed so she's pressing against him. Warmth pools low in his belly as her breasts slide against his chest, her stomach flush against him, her leg hooking over his, the wetness of her hot centre pressing against his thigh. He could stay like this forever.

He hardens against her warm, soft skin, and she smiles wickedly, raising an eyebrow.

"Again? Already?"

He smirks, leaning forward to kiss her. "What can I say? You're irresistible."

"Hard to say no to that."

His fingers dig into her waist, pulling her lower body even closer. "Oh, it's hard all right."

Veronica rolls her eyes at the pun, but grins nonetheless, shifting onto her back. He moves with her, quickly reaching for protection, before settling between her legs. After the somewhat urgent love-making in the kitchen earlier, he takes it slow this time, memorising every expression on her face, every sigh and gasp and exclamation that falls from her lips. If nothing else, he wants to remember her just like this, writhing and panting beneath him as she climbs towards climax.

It's going to be a long, lonely six months without her.

Afterwards, when they're still both gasping for breath, their bodies relaxing, coming down from the high, he pulls her into his arms, hugging her to him as tightly as he can, willing the emotion to stay buried, but failing miserably. She clings to him just as hard, burying her face in his neck, and though he can tell she's trying to hide it, he's not oblivious to the way her shoulders hitch, to the slightly uneven breathing, and he knows she's feeling the same way.


	11. Chapter 11

**So, this is it: the final chapter of this story.**

 **It feels a bit sudden, because I had planned on writing an Epilogue after this too. However, I felt that this was a good place to end it and instead I've decided to make it into a series and cover Logan and Veronica's 6 months apart in the next story :).**

 **I'm getting started on planning out the next story now and I'm hoping to have something to post in a couple of weeks or so.**

 **Thank you so much for all of your support and feedback for the story - it's the first long, multi-chapter fic I've written in 6 years. I'm really enjoying being part of the VM fandom; everyone has been friendly and welcoming, and there are so many great stories to read and meta to explore :).**

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven**

Logan wakes before his alarm on Wednesday morning, Veronica draped across him, her head resting on his chest as she sleeps. Shifting carefully, he tries to extract himself from the bed without waking her.

"Mmm." She sighs, snuggling closer and then prying one eye open. "Where you goin'?"

He smiles, tightening his arm around her for a moment, before whispering, "Just for a run. It's early, go back to sleep."

"Don't wanna," she mumbles, even as she loosens her grip on him and shifts so he can slide out of the bed.

Logan chuckles throatily, dropping a kiss to her forehead. "Sleep. I'll be back soon."

In the dimly-lit room, he fumbles for his running gear and pulls it on, then makes his way out of the house. Truth be told, he's not in the mood for a run today. He'd much rather stay in bed with Veronica, but he's not stupid, he knows if he doesn't get up, he'll end up wrapped up in her again and then they'll never leave the bed. Plus, he's restless, needs to burn off some of the anxious energy thrumming through his veins this morning, and running has always been a calming influence.

Slipping out of the beach house, he starts his usual circuit, thoughts turning to the day ahead. Yesterday had been pretty much a perfect day, just the two of them spending time together, with no worries, no thoughts of the outside world, but today… today, everything's getting real. Normally, the day before he ships out is very matter-of-fact: he attends final briefings, finalises arrangements for while he's away, then he packs, maybe hangs out with Dick for a while, and gets as much sleep as possible in his large, comfortable bed before heading to the base in the morning.

He still needs to do all those things today, of course, but now he has spending precious time with Veronica—and saying goodbye to her—to add into the mix, and that's the part that's making him antsy. _God, it was so much easier before, when I didn't have to think about leaving someone—leaving her—behind._ Not that he's not happy she's here—he's so thankful to have her back in his life again—but it certainly makes leaving for a six-month deployment that much more complicated, not to mention a helluva lot more emotional.

Logan's never been one to hide his emotions—sure, he did everything possible to conceal the evidence of his physical trauma when he was young, but he's never really been able to do the same emotionally—yet seeing his fellow officers going through the pain of emotional goodbyes and long, lonely deployments, he's always been grateful that he hasn't had to go through it himself. This time though, everything's different. Veronica's back and their relationship is so new, and it's the worst possible time for him to be shipping out.

When he gets back to the beach house, Veronica is no longer in bed; instead she's freshly-showered, damp hair pulled up in a twist, making breakfast in the kitchen.

"Hey," she greets, tossing a smile over her shoulder when he enters the kitchen area. "Coffee's on, breakfast will be ready soon."

Logan frowns slightly as he steps up behind her and lightly touches his lips to her neck. "I thought you were staying in bed?"

She shrugs. "Couldn't sleep after you left. And I wanted to make you breakfast. How does pancakes and bacon sound?"

"Perfect," he says. "And thank you."

She smiles, nods. "It's almost ready; you wanna eat first or I can keep it warm while you shower." His stomach rumbles in response. "Okay, eat first it is."

Veronica hands him a mug of coffee and a plate containing a small stack of pancakes and four strips of crispy bacon, and he slides onto one of the stools at the island, tucking into it eagerly. Several bites in, he realises Veronica is still standing beside him, sipping at her own mug of coffee, watching him eat.

"You're not eating?" he asks.

She shrugs. "Not that hungry."

Logan frowns. _Veronica, not hungry for breakfast? Is this some weird alternate universe?_ He gathers up a forkful of pancake soaked in maple syrup and a small piece of bacon and holds it out to her in offering.

"Here."

She shakes her head. "No, Logan, it's for you."

"Just eat it, Mars." He raises an eyebrow, holding the fork up tantalisingly. "You know you want to."

"Fine." She leans in, accepting the mouthful from the proffered fork, her eyes closing and a soft moan of appreciation escaping her lips.

"See," he says knowingly. "Knew you couldn't resist."

She narrows her eyes. "Finish your breakfast, Echolls."

He grins. "Only if you share it with me."

Veronica remains close to him as they eat, hip brushing against his leg, head leaning on his shoulder, fingers curled around his forearm. Logan doesn't think much of it until she follows him into the bathroom and perches on the toilet seat, making random small talk while he takes a shower. It's not until she follows him into the bedroom and sits on the edge of the bed while he gets dressed that he says something.

"Veronica?" He pulls on his uniform pants and fastens the belt.

"Yeah?" She's running her fingers over the insignia on the shirt he's laid out on the bed.

"What's going on?"

She frowns, looking up at him. "What do you mean?"

"You're hovering."

She makes a face, her nose scrunching up adorably. "I am not."

He raises a knowing eyebrow. "You've barely left my side since I got back from my run. I was half-expecting you to walk right into the shower with me."

"Nothing's going on," she protests weakly.

She picks the shirt up off the bed and holds it out to him. He takes it with a nod and tugs it on.

"I just…" She stops, looking down at her now empty hands for a moment, before she stands up and, still not meeting his eyes, starts buttoning the shirt.

Logan watches her fingers working quickly, her head bowed. When she gets about halfway down, he reaches out, curling his fingers around her wrist, stilling her movements.

"Veronica."

Reluctantly, she lifts her head a little and he slides his hand up to cup her jaw, forcing her to look at him fully. His breath catches in his throat at the despondent look on her face.

"I'm sorry. It's stupid, but I can't help it." She shakes her head. "I just… have this crazy need to be close to you right now."

"You know, I'm not complaining," he says softly, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ears. "I'm happy to have you close to me anytime." His smile widens as he attempts to lighten the mood. "Wow, this has to be a first, right? Veronica Mars, getting all mushy and romantic."

She makes a face, swatting at his chest. "Oh, shut up. You're one to talk, Mister ' _I wear my heart on my sleeve'_."

"I do not." Though even as the words leave his lips, he knows they're not true. She fixes him with an incredulous look, so he amends, "Yeah, okay, maybe. Sometimes."

"Ah, he finally admits it." She smiles mischievously.

Logan chooses to ignore her smug expression. "Look, I have to get going in a minute. You're welcome to come with me to the base if you like. It'll probably be pretty boring though, since I'll be stuck in the briefings, but you could hang out at the condo or something."

Veronica sighs, looking conflicted. "As much as I'd love to—and believe me, I would—Dad's having some tests done today and I told him I'd be there."

"Well, that's definitely more important." He nods sagely. "What time do you have to be there?"

"Ten."

"Okay, I'll take Dick's car to San Diego and you can drive mine to the hospital." Before she can protest, he holds up a finger. "No arguments."

She looks like she's in the middle of an internal debate for a moment, before she sighs, relenting. "Okay, fine. I'll take your car."

Logan doesn't know what exactly she has against driving his car, though he has a sneaking suspicion it's a mixture of not feeling like she deserves to drive it and not wanting to rely on him for transport.

"Great." He kisses the top of her head and runs his hands down her arms. "So, I really have to get going, but I should be done sometime this afternoon."

He releases her and takes a step back, finishing buttoning his shirt and then moving swiftly around the room, grabbing what he needs for the day. When he's ready, Veronica walks him to the door and rises up on tiptoes to kiss him goodbye, resting her hands on his shoulders for leverage.

He starts Dick's car and backs out of the driveway, resisting the urge to look back, and realises that, for the first time since he joined the Navy, he is not looking forward to leaving Neptune.

* * *

Three hours later, during a break between mandatory Powerpoint briefings, Logan's in the crew room of their makeshift squadron building, a mug of steaming coffee in his hands. He sips at it carefully, savouring every mouthful. Granted, it's not the best coffee in the world—it has nothing on his imported Guatemalan roast at home—but it's certainly better than anything he'll get on the ship in the next six months.

"Mouth!" Chaos approaches him from behind, giving him a friendly slap on the shoulder and a wide grin. "Enjoying this delightful morning of Death by Powerpoint?"

"Oh, you bet." Logan can't keep the sarcasm out of his tone. "Best thing I've done all week."

"My sentiments exactly." Chaos replies in an equally sarcastic tone. "And speaking of doing things… how's Veronica?"

"Dude." Logan shoots him a glare. "She'd kill you if she heard you talk about her like that."

"Sorry, man." Chaos straightens, though there's a twinkle in his eye that shows he's not serious. "But, you know, I bet I could take her."

Logan snorts. "Dude, you have no idea how much that is _not_ true. She'd have you for breakfast."

"You sure? I don't know…" Logan just raises an eyebrow pointedly. Chaos has heard all about Veronica's exploits in high school and college. His friend quickly relents.

"Yeah. You're right. She would." Chaos eyes him speculatively. "But she's good, though? You're happy?"

"Yeah, I am." He nods, unable to keep from smiling into his coffee mug.

"Nice." Chaos grins. "So she's back, she's sticking around?"

"Yeah, she is." He nods. "I mean, she says she is."

"You don't believe her?" Chaos looks at him questioningly.

"It's not that I don't believe her. It's just…I don't know." Logan sighs, draining the last of his coffee and placing the mug in the sink. "Everything's happening so fast. She only came back to Neptune because I asked her to. Before that, she had a life in New York; an apartment, a boyfriend, a new job, and now…" He shrugs, running a hand through his hair. "These last couple weeks have been great, but it's almost like it's too good to be true, you know?"

Chaos shakes his head, his expression verging on exasperated. "Dude, I saw how she was looking at you in the bar the other day. I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"Yeah?" Logan feels his heart-rate speed up slightly at the thought.

"Yeah." Chaos nods reassuringly. "So, uh, what's she gonna do while you're away?"

"Well, her dad's still in the hospital, so she's gonna look after him, help with his recovery, and I think she's planning to keep the business running while he's out of commission. Other than that, I don't really know."

"She gonna join any of the support groups?"

"Support groups?" Logan scrunches up his nose.

He's heard a lot about the groups for family members and partners of military personnel deployed overseas. They're supposed to be really good—a community where those left behind can support and help each other through the tough times, providing a friendly, understanding environment. Problem is, he can't really picture Veronica willingly partaking in any of them.

"I don't think so." He shakes his head. "Not really her thing."

"That's what Sarah said when I suggested it to her a couple of years ago," Chaos says, "but she really struggled the first time I was away and the extra support was a Godsend."

"Yeah, maybe." Logan's reluctant to even mention it to Veronica; he can just picture her reaction: _'Support group? Pshh, after all we've been through, I think I can handle a few months apart without needing a support group.'_

"Look, if she doesn't want to, that's her decision, but at least let me give you Sarah's number." Chaos reaches into his pocket, pulls out a pen, then grabs some paper from a nearby table. He scribbles down his wife's name, number and email. "Veronica's welcome to call her anytime, if she wants to talk, or just get out of the house for a while."

He holds out the paper to Logan, who takes it gratefully, glad his friend is offering to help. He's pretty sure Veronica won't call, but there's no harm in passing along the information.

"Thanks, man."

"Anytime."

* * *

Keith's tests are done by early afternoon and, after saying goodbye to him and stopping for a quick bite to eat on the way home, Veronica arrives back at the beach house shortly after one-thirty. Everything seemed to go well at the hospital and although the results won't be in for a few days, it looks like Keith is making a good recovery. The doctor confirmed that her father is still on track to come home on Monday, though he emphasised that Keith still has a long recovery ahead of him.

Veronica makes a cup of coffee and grabs her laptop out of her bag, settling down with it at the dining table. She's spent all morning trying to stay upbeat and cheerful, partly for her father's sake, but also because if she doesn't, she'll just start wallowing instead. Now that she's on her own, she needs a distraction. The laptop, along with the idea that has been forming in her mind ever since her father made an offhand comment earlier about Logan being away, should make for a good enough diversion until he gets home.

She doesn't have much time though _—Left it a bit late, haven't you, Veronica? He's leaving tomorrow—_ so the research has to be done quickly. She types in a few search terms, browses the results, makes a few notes, then sets her ideas in motion. By the time Logan walks through the door not long after four p.m., she's in the kitchen, elbow-deep in snickerdoodle dough.

"What's all this?" Logan looks surprised to find her baking. He shuts the door behind him, drops a duffle bag to the floor and walks over to her, slipping his arms around her waist from behind.

"Hey," she says, leaning into his warm body, tilting her neck in invitation when he lowers his mouth to her skin. "Sorry, I was hoping to get these finished before you got back."

"Uh, you've got something…" He lifts his hand to her temple, gently brushing away some errant flour with his fingers.

"Thanks." She smiles.

"So, Wallace finally start demanding his snickerdoodle fix again?"

"Nope." She shakes her head. "These are for you."

"For me?"

"Yeah, to take with you."

"Really?" There's a hint of delight in his tone and Veronica turns her head to look at him in amusement.

"Yes, really."

"Wow, thank you." He grins, pressing his warm lips to her cheek, his arm tightening around her. "Look, I'll leave you to it—I need to finishing packing."

He picks up the military-issue duffle, already half-full by the looks of it, and disappears down the hall into the bedroom alcove. Veronica watches him retreat before turning her attention back to the dough, shaping the cookies and pressing them onto the tray. The snickerdoodles are only part of his going-away gift… she just hopes he likes the rest. She's planning to sneak it into his bag when he's not looking, so it'll be a surprise for later.

When the cookies are in the oven, the timer set, Veronica goes to find Logan. He's standing by the bed, the duffle bag resting near the end and a collection of clothes, organised in piles, spread out over the mattress. He's changed, now clad only in a pair of sweatpants, his upper body bare, and as Veronica leans against the wall, her gaze roams across the expanse of well-muscled back, eyes tracing the faint scars that mar his skin.

They are unnoticeable to most people, having faded into thin white lines over the years, but she knows the exact locations of all of them on his body, can see them clear as day. Back in college, when they started sleeping together, she would sometimes trace those lines while he was asleep, vivid images of how they must have looked when they first happened running through her mind. She never told him, but she often found herself crying over them, unable to comprehend how he could have lived through such abuse and still be functioning. She wasn't kidding when she said her psych classes at Stanford had resonated with her—she'd absorbed them eagerly, lapped up every bit of information and insight she could in the hopes of understanding Logan and his behaviour better.

"Hey," he says, noticing her standing in the alcove.

She forces a casual smile, watching as he methodically packs his clothes into the bag.

Out of nowhere, a random thought pops into her mind.

"Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"How do you pee?"

"What?" He turns to face her, eyebrows raised, his expression a mixture of confusion and surprise.

"In the plane," she clarifies. "You said sometimes you fly for five or six hours… how do you use the bathroom?"

She has no idea why this has just occurred to her now, or even why she needs to know, but it seems important now that it's out there. He relaxes, lips quirking up into a smile as a short laugh escapes his mouth.

"Oh. Right, yeah. No facilities." His eyebrows twitch upward as he replies, "On short flights, it's not an issue, but when we fly longer…" His lips curl into a smirk. "Well, there's a bag, we call it a Piddle Pack, and we have to…"

"Yeah, okay. Got it. Thanks." Veronica makes a face, holding up a hand to stop him. "Shouldn't have even asked."

"Why did you?" He looks amused.

She shrugs. "It just occurred to me."

He nods, smiling as he returns to the bag and finishes packing.

"Logan?" she asks again a moment later.

"Yeah?" he replies, and though she can't see his face, it's obvious he's trying not to chuckle.

"How long do you have left in the Navy?"

It's a question that has come to mind a couple of times in the last few days, but she's been refraining from asking it. He stills, carefully placing the last of his shirts in the duffle, and turns to her.

"I mean," she continues quickly, before he has a chance to speak. "Pilots have eight years commitment, right?" She read that online a few months ago, when she was determinedly _not_ looking for information about becoming a Navy pilot. "And you've been in five already, so that means three more years, right?"

"Not exactly." His expression turns pained and her heart sinks. She's not going to like this answer, she can tell. "It's eight years from when we get our wings, and I got mine just over two years ago, near the end of 2013."

"Oh." Veronica looks down, feeling a clenching in her chest. Six years. He has almost six years left.

"But eight years is only the minimum commitment, Veronica," he says softly, almost hesitantly. "I can re-enlist at the end of it if I want."

Veronica stills, looking at him seriously. "Do you think you will?"

He shrugs helplessly. "I have no idea. I don't know what my life will be like in five years. But I had been planning on it when I joined up; figured I would stay in for the long haul."

"Oh," she says again, not sure what to make of that.

He studies her carefully for a long moment, before crossing the small space and reaching out to pull her into his arms. She goes willingly, slipping her arms around his waist and lowering her head to his chest.

"I'm sorry," she apologises, her voice muffled against his skin.

"For what?" he asks, resting his chin on the top of her head.

She sighs, lifting her head so she can see him. "I'm not usually this neurotic. You know me, easy-going, unflappable Veronica Mars. I wasn't expecting this to be so hard."

He releases her, takes her hand and gestures for her to sit on the bed. He settles beside her.

"This is all new to you, Veronica, you can't expect it to be a breeze." His thumb strokes gently across the back of her hand as he reaches across the bed for a folded sheet of paper. Veronica eyes it curiously as he holds it out towards her.

"Look, Chaos gave me his wife's—Sarah's—contact details today, said you're welcome to call or email her anytime… you know, if you have any questions, or if you just want someone to talk to or hang out with. There are some support groups on the base as well, you know, for family and friends of officers overseas."

Veronica shakes her head, the idea of lunching with military wives not appealing at all. "Logan, I don't think—"

He smiles knowingly. "Don't worry, there's no pressure. I told him it probably wasn't your thing, but he insisted I give you her details anyway. So here."

He hands her the piece of paper and she takes it, her fingers running along the edges before she slips it into her pocket.

"Okay." She's not going to call, or attend support groups, she already knows that, but she's willing to humour him. "Thanks."

"Also, I want you to have these while I'm away." He reaches into a pocket in the duffle bag and pulls out a set of keys, which he presses into her hand. "It's a spare car key and a key to the condo in San Diego. If you ever want to get away from Neptune for a while, feel free to hang out there, okay?"

Veronica looks down at the keys in her hand. "Logan, you don't need to do this."

Logan smiles. "Just take the keys, Veronica. You can just think of it as keeping my car running while I'm away… and checking my house is still standing."

"Okay. I guess I can do that."

"While we're on the subject, I've set up all my bill payments and legal paperwork for the next few months, and made sure my medical checks are up to date, but I've given the offices your number in case there are any issues and you need to get hold of me about any of it. Hope that's okay."

"Uh, sure." Veronica's surprised. "Yeah, that's fine. But I've only been back a few weeks… I mean, whose number do you normally give for this stuff?"

He shrugs. "My financial adviser normally, or Dick. But I figured you'd be a better person than them… if you don't mind."

"No, no, it's okay." Truthfully, she's feeling a little dazed. She hasn't considered all the housekeeping that seems to be involved in deploying overseas for six months.

"Thanks." He leans in, giving her a quick peck on the lips.

When they part, she smiles. "So, have you finished packing now?"

"Pretty much." He glances at the full bag.

"Great." Her smile widens and she reaches out, running her fingers over his chest and down to his stomach, tracing the toned abs there. "So we have the rest of the day to ourselves?"

"We do." He nods, then glances towards the kitchen. "But don't you have cookies in the oven?"

"Shit. I do."

As if on cue, the timer goes off and Veronica stands, gives Logan a quick kiss, and heads back toward the kitchen. The keys in her hand feel like a deadweight and she quickly places them down on the dining table as she passes. Turning the oven off, she places the tray of cookies on the counter to cool and turns to find Logan walking down the hall towards her, pulling a t-shirt on over his head.

"You're not supposed to be _putting_ _on_ clothes." She frowns, nodding to his now-covered torso. "What happened to having the rest of the day to ourselves?"

"We're both here…alone…aren't we?" He grins, trapping his tongue between his teeth. "Besides, the day is still young, and I'm starving. I need sustenance first."

* * *

"Oh. My. God." Veronica clutches at Logan's hair, her eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back against the arm of the couch as she catches her breath. Logan is trailing a line of hot, wet kisses across her stomach, his fingers dipping between her legs, gently teasing the sensitive, swollen flesh. "Wowsers."

She's not entirely sure how they ended up in this position, her stretched out naked on the couch, Logan somehow still fully dressed as he brings her to climax with his fingers and tongue over and over. They only sat down to watch a movie, bowl of popcorn in hand, but partway through, Logan began kissing her neck, sweeping her hair over her shoulder, fingers teasing her skin as he did so, and the next thing she knew, her shirt and bra were on the floor, and she was flat on her back on the sofa with him tugging her jeans and panties down her legs.

Not that she's complaining. No, siree. She would stay like this forever if she could.

Logan shifts, angling his body over hers as he props himself up on one elbow and smiles down at her, his dark eyes boring into hers. His free hand cups the back of her head, then slides round to her jaw, before his fingers trail along her cheek, over her forehead, down her nose, along the other cheek, his eyes following the movement intently. Then his palm flattens on her collarbone and slides over her shoulder and down her arm. He takes her hand in his, strokes along each of her fingers, then moves back up her arm again. Cupping her left breast, he squeezes gently, feeling its weight in his hand and brushing his thumb over her nipple, then switches to the right one and does the same.

"What are you doing?" she asks softly, barely more than a whisper, when his hand drifts to her side, then over her stomach.

"Memorising you." She blinks in surprise, so he elaborates. "I'm not going to be able to touch you for six months. I want to be able to remember you exactly as you are right now."

"Oh." She feels a fresh surge of warmth pooling deep in her belly. "Well, memorise away."

"Okay." He grins, his hand moving lower now. "I will."

"And later, I'm going to have to do some memorising of my own."

There's a wicked glint in his eye when he replies, "Oh, I'm looking forward to that."

* * *

Veronica stirs, prying open one eye. It's barely light, but Logan's standing at the end of the bed in full uniform, cap on his head and phone in hand, taking a photo of her. Her heart skips a beat in panic when she realises what this means.

"No, it's too early," she protests, her voice throaty. She lifts a hand to her face, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she shifts onto her back.

"You'd be surprised how strongly the armed services feel about punctuality," Logan replies softly, tucking his phone in his pocket and placing his hands on his hips. His lips quirk up into a small, bittersweet smile as he looks down at her. "You want me to get busted for going AWOL?"

She smiles, stretching and pulling herself up into a sitting position, his shirt threatening to slip off her shoulder. She's struggling to keep her eyes open, her body boneless and sated. _God, Logan totally wore me out last night._ He's standing before her, slightly amused smirk on his face, and all she can think of at this very moment is grabbing hold of that crisp, white shirt of his and ripping it off him, dragging him back to bed so he can't leave.

"What I want," she starts, shifting on the bed, getting closer. "Is for you to stand there…" She kneels in front of him, determination and lust pulsing through her. "…in that eff-ity white uniform…" His smile widens in recognition, pupils dilating in response. He looks down at her expectantly and she reaches for his shirt, tugging on it, speaking authoritatively. "… with your Harvard mouth and show me some eff-ing courtesy."

"Well…" His arms slip around her waist, tugging her close. "I appreciate you keeping it PG-13 for me." He leans in, kisses her nose tenderly. "I'm delicate."

Her eyebrow rises and she smiles self-assuredly. _Oh, yeah, I can feel just how_ delicate _you are right now, Lt. Echolls._

"I got you off murder charges," she counters with an indulgent smile, batting her eyelashes as suggestively as she can. "I can beat an AWOL rap."

He grins for a moment, then sobers.

"Listen, it's 180 days, Veronica," he says seriously, his gaze fixed on hers. "What's 180 days to us? Our story is epic." His lips quirk up in a smile, as he repeats the words from so long ago. "Spanning years, continents."

"Lives ruined," she adds softly, deliberately. "Bloodshed."

"Yeah." He smiles, his eyes dropping to her lips, his hungry expression making her shiver.

She can't take it anymore; she leans in, placing her hands on his neck, just like she did that night at her father's house two weeks ago, and kisses him deeply, pouring everything into it, yet trying not to show how desperately she wants him to stay.

"Come back to me." She tries not to make it sound like a plea, but it does all the same.

He studies her seriously for a second, before swearing, "Always."

Logan cups her jaw in his hands for a moment, then lets his arms fall, his fingers finding hers. He holds her hand as he steps away, not letting go until her fingers slip from his.

She stays on the bed, sinking back on her heels, unable to move as she watches him go. He pulls open the door, then stops for a moment, duffle bag slung over his shoulder, and smiles, giving a small nod. She smiles back, huffs out a tiny laugh, though it's a struggle to do so, and then he's gone.

Panic starts to rise in her throat, her chest restricting tightly and she struggles to breath. She can't let him leave like this, can't let this be it. Snapping out of it, she scrambles off the bed, runs barefoot through the beach house and pulls open the door, hoping to God he hasn't gone yet.

"Wait! Don't leave."

"Veronica?" Logan stops, the passenger door of Dick's car open as he prepares to swing the duffle inside. "Everything okay?"

"I want to go with you." She says, the words coming out in a rush. "To the base."

"You do?" He seems surprised, dropping his bag to the ground and walking over to her.

"Yes." She nods. "I want to see you off properly."

"Okay." A smile graces his tired-looking features. "But I need to get on the road soon or I'm going to be late. How quickly can you get dressed?"

She looks down at herself, clad in only his dark-blue, button-down shirt. "You mean I can't just wear this?"

He grins, kissing her forehead, fingers resting along her neck. "Go get ready. I'll be out here."

"Back in a minute."

Veronica heads inside, pulling on clean underwear and her discarded jeans. She elects to leave his shirt on—it's the same shirt he was wearing the night of the accident, the night they first slept together again—though she rolls up the sleeves and ties the tails in a knot at her waist. She slips into the bathroom to brush her teeth and run a comb through her hair, then grabs her purse on her way out of the door.

Logan's sitting in his BMW now, duffle bag slung in the backseat, cap tucked in the side pocket. He smiles as she closes the beach house door behind her and then climbs into the passenger seat.

"Ready?"

"Yep."

"Okay, let's go." He starts the engine and backs out of the driveway.

Veronica's emotions are all over the place during the drive down to San Diego, a weird combination of nerves, anxiety, excitement and distress. The mood in the car doesn't help; Logan is quieter than normal, his focus on the road, though his hand is clasping hers, resting on his thigh.

"You okay?" she asks after a few minutes of silence.

He looks over at her, giving only a half-smile that barely reaches his eyes. "Yeah… well, not really but…" The … _you know how it is…_ goes unspoken.

"Yeah, I know."

"We'll be okay, right?" he asks then. "We'll make it?"

"I want us to," she says honestly. " _We_ want us to. I think that's what's important."

"Yeah." He nods.

Veronica runs her thumb across the back of his hand in an attempt to relieve some of the tension in his arm, before lifting it to her lips. They spend the rest of the journey in silence and all too soon, Logan's driving onto the base. He pulls into a parking spot and they climb out of the car. Logan tugs on his cap and slings the bag over his shoulder again and slips his hand in hers, entwining their fingers. She wraps her free hand around his arm, pressing as close to him as she can as they walk through the throngs of people towards the dock.

A couple of hundred feet from the carrier, Logan stops and turns to her, letting his bag fall to the ground. "I guess this is it."

"Yeah." Veronica slides her hands up over his chest, pressing her lips together and willing herself not to break down in front of him. "You go serve your country, okay? Do us proud."

"I will." He swallows, the tell-tale shimmer of tears mirrored in his own eyes. "See you in 180 days, Veronica Mars."

"I'll be waiting."

"I'll come back."

"Yeah, you will." She tries for playful, but her voice cracks partway through. She doesn't want to think about him _not_ coming back.

"C'mere." He pulls her to him, capturing her lips in a searing kiss.

Veronica rises up on tiptoes, winding her arms tightly around his neck, putting as much fervour and passion into the kiss as she can. She stays locked in his embrace for what seems like forever, only releasing him when a horn sounds and an announcement comes over the PA system that the ship will be departing shortly.

"I have to go." He looks down at her, his fingers tenderly stroking down the side of her face.

"I know."

He steps back, adjusts his cap and picks up his bag. He turns to leave, but Veronica catches hold of his arm, rising up and kissing him one more time.

"Bye."

He just nods, pressing his lips together, like he can't bring himself to say it back for fear of jinxing it, then turns and walks toward the ship. Veronica watches him go, her eyes following his retreating figure up the gangplank, onto the carrier, until he disappears inside. She stays until the ship leaves, though she has no idea if he's even one of the officers lined up on the flight deck. When it's finally out of sight and the excitement at the port dies down, she walks back to Logan's car with a heavy heart.

She chooses to drive up the PCH instead of taking the 5, the coastal drive reminding her of Logan, and manages to hold it together for about thirty minutes, until she's just past Del Mar, but then reality hits and the floodgates open and she has to pull over. She feels empty, lonely, her eyes stinging with tears. She brings a hand to her mouth, features crumpling as the tears spill over. She gives herself just five minutes to cry, to get it all out, before composing herself, wiping the tears away and pulling out into the road again.

 _You can do this, Veronica,_ she tells herself firmly. _It's only 180 days. You can manage that. You_ will _manage that. For him._

At least they've had these past two weeks together.

 _Two solid weeks of bliss, and now it's back to the real world._

 **End**

* * *

 **Thank you again for reading :). Hope you enjoyed the story and as always, reviews are greatly appreciated and welcomed :). I've had a lot of fun working on it, and also rediscovering my love for writing again :).**


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